


Where Angels Fear to Tread

by Peppercheeni, ShadowOfTheNight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Brainwashing, Denial, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Police Brutality, Police state, Pseudoscience, Re-Education, Romance, Starvation, cure the gay, deprivation, prison!au, re-orientation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 41,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peppercheeni/pseuds/Peppercheeni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowOfTheNight/pseuds/ShadowOfTheNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a dystopian America where re-orientation camps are the norm and heavily enforced by the government, guards, called Angels by the populace, round up young men and women to be cured of the horrible affliction that is homosexuality.  One fall night, Sam Winchester find himself ripped from his family and sent to one of these prison camps.  The road to his cure, however, is hampered by the presence of a quick-witted and handsome blond guard named Gabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam remembered the day very clearly.  It was the eighteenth of September.  The weather outside had already turned crisp and cool, and he was carefree in a way he’d thought he could never be.  He had arrived at home, smiling and laughing with his brother, cheeks red from the cold air.  

 

That’s when it all fell apart.

 

There were three policemen in his living room.  His father looked murderous, and his mother just looked like she’d wanted to cry.  

 

“How could you do this to us?”  They’d asked.

 

Sam had no reply.  He thought he’d been careful.  

 

The police hauled him away for reeducation.  Dean fought with one of them, a short cute blonde that he’d given a bloody lip.

 

That was three years ago.  Now he was wasted, and thin, and still not cured.

 

He didn’t want to be.  The cute guard was nice and always got a little flustered when he flirted.  He scribbled something out on the letter he was writing to his brother.  Dean had gotten married, had a cute little kid, and he was trying to find words of congratulations, but all he could remember was the sting of disappointment even though he knew that Dean had tried his hardest.

 

He shoved the paper away and scrubbed at his face with one hand.  Nose wrinkled at the state of his uniform, he knocked his tin cup against the wall.  “Hey, I’ve been locked in here for three days.  Let me out.  I need to shower.”

 

At first, Sam received absolutely no response, however, that was to be expected; it always took a while to get anyone’s attention, probably because most of the staff were extremely resentful of their patents. Then came the long-awaited clacking of shoes against the floor as one of the guards made their way down the hall.

 

“Are you ready to cooperate?” The guard did not show his face, but it was clear simply by the rough edge of his voice that he was not the one Sam fancied. Ah, well. It was still better than the silence that had previously consumed the room.

 

“Sure, sweet cheeks.”  Sam laughed and slid out of the chair to the floor, “I’ll blow you for a decent shower and a good meal.”  He sat up on his knees, opened his mouth, and winked.

 

The guard sputtered.  Oh, he must be new, this was precious.  He rapped the baton against the bars of Sam’s cell.  “If you’re going to take that attitude then, no.  I was warned about you, boy.”

 

“Ohh, who told you about precious little old me?”  Sam laughed.

 

“That’s none of your business,” the guard replied shortly.  “You don’t get to shower or eat until you’re willing to talk to the psychiatrist again.  You know Naomi only wants to help you.”  The tone of his voice had changed, gone soft as if he really believed the tripe he was talking about.

 

“Help?  I…” he slammed his fist into the chair before using it to haul himself to his feet.  “I don’t need help.” he hissed.  

 

The guard shook his head and, as he made his way back to his post, Sam could hear him murmur, “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

 

Then, silence--that thick, crippling silence that he hated so much, the kind that was so deafening, even bloodcurdling screams would have been more soothing to the ears. For three days, he’d been locked up, with only such a maddening absence of sound to keep him company and, as of now, it was beginning to look like his confinement might be lasting four or five days, plus.

 

He turned around in his cell, fists clenching and unclenching.  “Bet you’ve never even gotten laid,” he growled out finally.  “That’s why you’re such a prick.”  He turned back to the door and pressed himself up against the bars, obscenely.  “You know, I’d do it too.” he grinned, “I’d give you the best damn blow job you ever had.  I just want a shower, man.  I stink.  I’m hungry.  Give me your best shot.”  Then he moaned and licked one of the bars.

 

The guard could see him, he knew it.  And it may not be today, but one day that asshole’s curiosity would get the better of him, and he could get out of this fucking cage.  Until then… he moaned a little louder.

 

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t let you out yet. You’re obviously in heat and extremely dangerous.”

 

Although Sam hadn’t seen him come in, that voice would’ve caught his attention anytime, anywhere. The blonde guard--who, unlike Sam’s newest victim, had been with the him since day one--was leaning against the far wall, a set of keys dangling from his hand. There was not a doubt in Sam’s mind that one of the keys on that massive ring had the ability to free him from this grimy little cell.

 

The other guard seemed taken aback, partially because the blonde, while shorter, was his superior, and partially because it was beyond awkward to have someone else walk in to such a sight as Sam pressed against the bars--Sam, whom he had been expected to keep under control.

 

Sam grinned and stopped undulating against the bars, “Gabriel!” he laughed.  “Rescue me, take me out of here.  I need to bathe, man.”  There was no denying the affection he felt for his keeper; maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome, but this man was nice to him when no one else was.  “I only said those things because he won’t even feed me anymore  You know I only have eyes for you.” he whined.  “I miss my sandwiches.  I miss you bringing me dinner, why’d you stop?”

 

Gabriel approached the cell with exaggerated casualness, purposely taking his sweet time, messing with Sam simply because he knew that he could. “Now, now, Sam, you know very well that you cannot get what you want by whining like a two year old.”

 

He moved up against the bars, fingers tapping the metal thoughtfully. “Tell me, are you going to behave or do I need to leave you locked up for another night? Then again, knowing you, you’ll just have too much fun screwing with the new guy if I do leave you…” His tone was mocking, and yet, there was an underlying fondness in it, making his voice seem almost endearing. Then again, when compared to everyone else in this horrid establishment, Gabriel was practically a saint, no matter how sharp a tongue he had.

 

“What do you want more, Sam? Shower or sandwich? Obviously, I can’t give you both at once; soggy bread is about as nasty as you are smelly.” As he spoke, Gabriel was already fooling with his keys, trying to locate the one he needed to let Sam out.

 

Sam pulled back from the bars to wait for Gabriel to open them, “I usually get what I want from you by whining; you like me,” he grinned.  “As for this putz? I almost had him locked up in this place with me.” He leered at the other guard. “If I’d had another day or two, you’d have a new prisoner.”  Then he cocked his head to the side, “I mean, he’s pretty, but not as pretty as you are.”

 

He scratched at his neck and plucked at the front of his orange jumpsuit.  “Shower first,” he said, pressing his lips firmly together,  “and a new suit.  If I try to eat anything like this, I’ll vomit before I can choke down the first bite.  And can you get me a hair tie?  This mop is driving me crazy.”  He tugged at a lock of his hair.

 

“Let’s not be hasty,” Gabriel warned, holding up a large brass key, a small trophy of his triumphant over the overcrowded keyring, “clean yourself up first, then we’ll talk.” He pushed the key into the cell’s rusting lock, banging it around slightly before turning it and receiving the successful click that signified Sam’s anticipated ‘freedom.’ Once the lock was out of the way, Gabriel swung the door open, holding out worn shackles. “You know the drill.”

 

Had anyone accused him, the blonde would never had admitted to having any sort of attachment to Sam, nor would he admit that the act of simply holding the shackles out to Sam, rather than cuffing his prisoner himself, was an act of trust. To whomever it concerned--including the inexperienced guard that stood a ways away, watching them--the action was no more than a habit, brought about purely because they went through the same chore so often.

 

It wasn’t terribly far-fetched. After all, Sam was smart enough to know that, should he act particularly difficult, it was right back into solitary he went--no sandwich, no shower, and certainly no hair tie. What Gabriel would conveniently leave out in the event of any kind of confrontation would be the fact that Sam only did things willingly when he, and he alone, told him to.

 

Sam stared at the manacles as he always did when the door was opened.  His eyes narrowed, and his gaze flicked from them up to Gabriel’s own honey colored eyes, and then over his guard’s shoulder, as if judging how far he could get if he decided to do a runner.  He took a step forward and grinned, before holding his arms out with a long suffering sigh and then a leer in the direction of the other guard.

 

“Come find me in the shower,” he taunted.  “Gabe, why do you have to keep sending schmucks like him to guard me anyway?  They’re terrible, and none of them has an ass as fine as yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.  “Come on, you know you want to bust me loose and run away with me.”

 

This, too, was tradition--the flirting, the bargaining.  He wouldn’t have minded if Gabriel had taken him up on his offers.  He only offered because he knew the responses now.  He’d long ago given up hope for anything new, but the repetitiveness was comforting.

 

Sort of.

 

Sighing wearily, Gabriel closed the shackles around Sam’s wrists and nudged him on ahead, in the general direction of the showers. “Oh yes, because we both know I am just dying to toss my career and reputation out the window in order to run away with a dreamy fugitive, such as yourself. Now, stop dawdling and keep that hot piece of ass moving; I’ve seen roadkill with faster reflexes.”

 

As they made their way down the hall, Gabriel glanced over at the other guard, who was, unsurprisingly enough, still standing dumbly against the wall and watching them. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to make your rounds and do your job, hm? Jesus, it’s impossible to find good help these days!”

 

Immediately, the guard stumbled off of the wall and, after giving his superior an embarrassed nod, made his way in the opposite direction at a significantly quicker pace than usual. The blonde chuckled, then turned his attention back to Sam and getting him to the showers as soon as possible.

 

Sam, like all the other times they’d done this ritual, mosied his way down the corridor.  Then, he stopped dead in the middle, and a slow grin stretched over his lips.  The last two years have been exactly the same; time to shake things up.  “You know,” he said in a deceptively mild tone, “We could always run to Canada.  I hear people like me can even get married up there.”

 

Dangerous territory, son, his mind whispered, but he banished the thought.  “You’d still be an officer of the law, you just wouldn’t have to work for these cesspools anymore.  Canada, land of the Free,” he raised his manacled arms and gestured expansively,  “instead of America, home of the assholes!”

 

Gabriel jabbed Sam in the low back in an attempt to get him moving again, scoffing almost inaudibly. He could see what the young man was doing and, while his attempts were technically harmless, it had been a long week; Gabriel was hardly in the mood for Sam’s games.

 

“Yeah, well, as tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. See, the moment I give in to my urges, I end up in your position--with all but no chance of ever seeing Canada’s border, much less making it to the country.” Gabriel’s tone was sharp as ever, perhaps even a little too sharp; it was verging on bitter, but then, reality had that effect on people. The moment it was given even the slightest access to the tongue, there would be trouble, which was the exact reason that Sam preferred to loosely flirt and make up absurd fantasies whenever he spoke with the blonde; the exact reason that, nine times out of ten, Gabriel chose to play along.

 

“Are you ensuring that we will never reach the border of the shower room either? Come on, get moving!” Gabriel jabbed him again, not too hard, but playfully, as if to soften the blow of some of his previous, harsher comments.

 

Sam stayed right where he was, voice dropping to almost a whisper.  “I mean it, Gabriel.  I play along with these assholes,” his lips barely moved, “I make them think they cured me, and you can run away with me to the border.”  This was definitely new.  While he’d poked and prodded at Gabriel before, he’d never actually been serious, until now.

 

Now, if he was being honest with himself, he was finally bringing real feelings to the table.  He took a hesitant step forward and then another.  “You wanna run away with me, Gabe?  I’ll take good care of you, I promise.  Was gonna be a lawyer.  Make good money.”  

 

“Sam…”

 

Gabriel could tell simply by the way the brunette’s voice dropped that he was no longer mindlessly flirty; his tone shift and overall genuine uncertainty only confirmed it further. The man in front of him was not a fugitive that needed to be purged of his sins, but a human being that had so much potential and hope, if only he were allowed to live his life. Three years, Gabriel had been watching Sam practically waste away and, for the first time since the fateful day he had helped drag this young man out of a world of promise, the curtain had lifted, leaving them both bare and exposed to the true darkness of their reality, if only for a moment.

 

Seconds ticked by like hours, and that same silence that had condemned Sam back in his cell hung overhead, until Gabriel finally managed a tired smile and a single sentence,

 

“How about we just start with that shower?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So look, the plan is to update no slower than once a week. NO. SLOWER. :'D We will likely update much faster than this. As you can tell. Enjoy~

Cleaned, fed, refreshed, and in a headache-inducing orange jumpsuit, Sam sprawled out on the couch in Naomi’s office.  He did, despite popular belief, look forward to their weekly meetings--well, to an extent, anyway; it gave him a chance to prove there was nothing wrong with him.  He wasn’t sick.  He’d held on this long.  There was nothing wrong with him...

 

Only with the situation.

 

He knew Gabriel stood outside the door, waiting.  The room looked like any doctor’s office; that is, if that office were in an underground facility designed to brainwash men and women into being this ridiculous thing called normal.   He rolled over and buried his face in the cushions--at least, if she was going to be late, he could sleep on something soft for once.

 

Five minutes passed before the clicking of high heels alerted Sam that his nap was over. The office door opened, and Naomi stepped inside, clipboard tucked neatly in the crook of her arm. “I apologize for my tardiness, Mr. Winchester; there were other...obligations that needed attending to. But I am here now, and I presume you are ready to get started?” Although her last phrase had been spoken as a question, Sam knew better than to assume that she was giving him any choice at all. Most the time, Naomi’s ‘questions’ could be better described as deceptively polite commands.

 

The woman took her usual seat right across from Sam, crossing her legs and setting her clipboard atop her knee. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she waited patiently for the young man to unbury his face and acknowledge her, so the real fun could begin.

 

“Bite me,” he mumbled into the cushions and curled his massive body inward, so he fit a little better on the couch.  It exhausted Sam to sit here week after week, listening to the same woman drone on and on tirelessly about his problems.  “Why don’t we talk about your issues today, Naomi?”  He rolled slightly backwards, freeing his face from the cushion, “Like why you’re here, trying to fix someone who doesn’t need to be fixed?”

 

Warning bells chimed in his head soon after he slipped back into the more comfortable position of eating the cushions.  Week after week of the same damn thing, and today he decides to be a little shit.  He wondered what the punishment would be this time, Not more solitary, I just provoke the guards.  Maybe electroshock therapy this time?

 

“Everyone has their problems, Samuel,” Naomi pursed her lips, otherwise unfazed by his remark, “my career, fortunately, is not something I need be ashamed of. Now, we’re here to talk about you and your absurd persistence to deny that you have a serious problem. How long has it been, three years? Oh, my dear boy, do you honestly plan to throw your whole future away in order to keep to this sad state of denial?” She watched him, her eyes imitating sympathy rather flawlessly. Sam, of course, was not fooled. Naomi could never have felt sorry for him; she resented him far too much.

 

Sam rolled over to face her and pulled on his biggest shit eating grin, “Hon, the only reason you’re asking me that is because you’ve never had a dick in your ass or mouth.”  He eyeballed her, still laying down.  “I gotta tell you, it’s one of the most amazing feelings on this earth,” a pause and then a laugh, “Oh, I bet you haven’t even gotten out of missionary position yet, huh?  You poor dear, does your husband still fuck you with a sheet in between you two like the old Hebrews did?”

 

He finally sat up and lounged indolently against the armrest, “Well, let me tell you,” he pitched his voice a little louder now, so Gabriel could hear him; two for the price of one,  “to feel the slick hardness of someone’s erection bumping my palate, scraping my teeth, pressing against the back of my throat?  Best feeling in the world.  I love swallowing someone’s load.  Brings us closer together, more… intimate than just two sad slobs fucking in an alley.”

 

Even though she did not physically react to Sam’s crudeness, the disgust was beyond prominent in her eyes, and she pulled a pen from the top of her clipboard, carefully scrawling notes down accordingly. For a good two or three minutes, the room was silent, apart from the sound of pen against paper. Then, Naomi looked up and met her patient’s gaze, expression cool and controlled. “It’s a pure shame, given how many resources we’ve wasted on you and your case, to see your condition continue to worsen, Samuel. Instead of allowing us to help you, you choose instead to further poison your mind with such distasteful thoughts. Tell me, what would your poor mother think? You’re allowing the wound to fester--keep this up and drastic measures will have to be taken; no soldier wants his leg removed, but, sometimes, it becomes a necessity when his life hangs in the balance.”

 

Disappointed upon not receiving any sort of sign that Gabriel had heard him, Sam flopped back down on his side and rolled over into the couch once again.  “You really don’t understand, do you?  After all this time you’ve invested talking to me, hearing my side of things--hearing how I have been ripped from my home, beaten, tortured, even raped by female guards--you still have the nerve to tell me my condition is ‘worsening.’”  He laughed and shook his head at the couch.  “You’re a real fucking piece of work, you know that?  Go fuck yourself, and let the asshole take me back to my cell.”  

 

“I’m afraid I cannot simply return you to your cell, Mr. Winchester, not after you’ve expressed such hostility during today’s session. You’ve been disrupted in one way or another--perhaps not enough quiet time?” Naomi paused and scribbled down more notes. “Either way, it is my professional opinion that immediate action be taken before your rebellious tendencies escalate any further. Gabriel!” She ripped a sheet from her clipboard, tapping her foot as she eyed the door with slight impatience.

 

The guard opened the door just wide enough to pop his head in. “Yes?” His cheeks held the ghost of a blush, suggesting that he had, indeed, been able to hear Sam’s colorful descriptions from his post right outside the door. Naomi waved the slip of paper at him and, masking a sigh, Gabriel pushed the door open a bit more, stepping inside. He was not exactly comfortable in her presence, that much was clear, what, with how much distance he kept between them when he took the paper.

 

“See to it that our sharp-tongued young man gets exactly what he needs.” She motioned once again to the paper for the sake of emphasis, before standing. “We will resume this session in a few days time, once Samuel has composed himself.” Without so much a second glance towards either of them, she gathered up her belongings and left the room.

 

It was only when Naomi was a safe ways away from the office that Gabriel decided to look over the instructions she had given to him. When Sam was involved, her ‘notes’ rarely held anything that could be considered positive, to say the very least. Once he’d gone over her words a few times, the blonde shook his head, lifting his caramel-colored eyes to regard Sam.

 

“You just had to run that big mouth of yours, didn’t you?”

 

Sam raised his eyebrows and laughed.  “Oh, wouldn’t you like to see what my big mouth can do,” he practically purred, using his height to his advantage to crowd the guard up against the wall.  “I saw you when you came in, you know.  Cheeks flushed, you looked adorable.” His brain was screaming all sorts of warnings at him, but he was beyond caring at this point.  

 

He slowly dropped into a kneeling position and gazed up at Gabriel through his eyelashes. “I cannot help but wonder if your face would look like that if I wrapped my pretty lips around you--if I broke that barrier down and got you to fuck me?” He smiled, slow and languid, “They can only lock you up if we get caught, and I’m very, very good at being quiet.”

 

“Yeah, unfortunately your ability to control your noise level means absolutely nothing to the twelve or so cameras Naomi has set up in her office.” Gabriel peered down at Sam, smirking ever so slightly. Still, if he looked close enough, Sam was almost certain he could catch a hint of disappointment in the guard’s eyes. “Come on then, on your feet! You’ve got a large order to fill and not at all in the way I know you’re thinking about.” He flapped that notorious sheet of paper right in Sam’s face, using it as a cover to, at least, get his back off of the wall. Even if his resistance was evident, Gabriel knew that, in a place like this, it was always better safe than sorry.

 

Sam bit back the obvious reply and just rolled his eyes.  “Fine, fine.”  He braced his shoulder against the wall and used it to pull himself back onto his feet.  “You’re no fun anymore.”  There was disappointment in his tone, mostly about Gabriel’s lack of amusement.  “You know, I’ve stolen at least six guards from you over the years, probably more.  The least you could do is get angry at me sometimes.”

 

When he received no other reaction, he sighed and slumped his shoulders.  “Fine.  I see how it is.  What are they going to do to me today?  Electroshock? Brainwashing?  A good old-fashioned beating?”  Sam stretched his arms upwards, feeling both shoulders pop.  When he relaxed, he risked a glance back at Gabriel’s face. “Is it gonna be something new?  You’d think, after this long, they wouldn’t be able to come up with anything else.”  

 

Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “I swear, keep acting up, and they really are going to come up with something new, just for you, Sam.” Although he made a genuine effort to hide it, the concern in his voice was unmistakable; of course, the subtle tenderness in his eyes was of no help either. “But no, you got damn lucky this time around, kid.”

 

He glanced back down at the paper and quickly read it off, feeling notably rushed given where they were currently, compared to where they were expected to be headed by now. “Patient shows signs of escalating hostility, however, there is a slight chance such energy could be channeled positively, elsewhere--put him to work cleaning toilets and anything else that comes to mind for the next week. Make sure he is well-monitored at all times; any sign of misbehavior or aggression should be met with immediate, maximal punishment and reported to me.” Once the guard had finished, he looked up at Sam, not even the smallest sliver of jest residing in those warm golden orbs. “So, there you have it. You’re the god damned janitor starting now.”

 

Sam stopped what he was doing to stare at Gabriel. “Wait,” he just about choked on his laughter, “They want me to what?  I’m supposed to be… what?”  He started howling. Tears streamed down his face, and he had to lean against the wall for support.  “This is,” he snorted between laughs, “I don’t even know what to say to that!  This is great news.  No solitary, no sitting and doing nothing.”  He held up a hand, “Oh man, you gotta let me outside to clean up the recreation yard.  I will clean every goddamn toilet in this place for ten minutes of fresh air.”

 

The grin practically split his face in two.  It was obvious he wasn’t expecting this kind of luxury; to anyone with an ounce of decency and goodwill, this would have been heartbreaking.  To see him this excited about not getting beaten, well… it said a lot about his mental state.

 

He jogged a few feet in front of Gabriel, still grinning like a loon.  “What are you waiting for?  Hurry up, I’ve got actual, real, honest work to do!”

 

“One minute you’re taking your sweet time standing up, and now you’re practically running out the door, like a child on his way to recess,” Gabriel’s usual, slacked smile resurfaced. “And all to clean toilets. You do need help.” He followed just behind Sam, hands burrowed in the large pockets of his jacket. As ridiculous--and downright sad--as it was, Gabriel found Sam’s enthusiasm fairly reassuring. Who knows, maybe the young man would actually make it through the week without sustaining any remarkable physical injuries, for once. Maybe, this time around, nothing would go too horribly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam opens his big fat mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, its so short and I'm sorry! But we're well on our way into the next chapter so stay tuned!

Sam rolled over onto all fours, scrambling away from the boot that was headed towards his face.  “Dude!  Fuck! Ow!” He caught the other boot at his leg. “It was just a joke, lighten up!”  He exclaimed, ducking away from a punch.  This guard was not very good, sloppy; Sam could have taken him down easily, but he was trying to stay on his best behavior.  

 

When the next punch came winging his way, he didn’t duck quite fast enough and caught it square in the nose.  His head snapped back, and instinctively, he held pressure to it.  “Dude, if you broke my nose, I swear, I’m gonna make sure they fry you on the eleven o’clock news.”  He danced out of the way of yet another blow.  “Oh, fuck you!  Stop attacking me, seriously!”

 

The guard, disgruntled and extremely frustrated, kept taking mad swings at the prisoner, eventually bringing out his baton to compensate for his poor aim. “I’ll teach you to be fresh with me, ya arrogant bastard!” He waved the baton threateningly and stepped forward, attempting to corner Sam in order to make his job easier. Gathering up what strength he had, the young officer whacked Sam hard against the tailbone, moving his boot over to crunch down on his fingers.

 

“You ass!  I wasn’t getting fresh! I just told you, it was a joke!  You don’t want anything to do with me, I get it!  Trust me buddy, you aren’t my type either!”  Sam recoiled into the corner and howled when his fingers got crunched.  “Fuck!” He snatched his hand back when the boot came off and cradled it protectively to his chest.  “Will you leave me alone now?  Can I get the fuck back to work?”  He trembled with repressed anger, trying very, very hard to not lash out and break the guard’s face wide open.  

 

Scoffing, the guard grabbed hold of Sam’s hair and tugged him upwards--only slightly, of course; he was not exactly easy to lift given his size. “You can get back to work when you show me some goddamn respect!” It was clear that he was trying to be far more intimidating than he actually was, as he probably knew that Sam was capable of pounding the shit out of him, should he choose to retaliate. Then again, it wasn’t as if they were not being extremely well monitored. If one did not know better, it might have seemed like the guard actually wanted the prisoner to strike back.

 

Sam allowed himself to be lifted, inwardly seething.  “Alright, yes.  Fine.  What would you like me to do, sir?” He asked in the most non-confrontational tone he could manage.  Gabriel wanted him to be good.  He would be let out to clean the recreation yard if he toed the line, and he wanted desperately to be let outside.  So, for the time being, Sam decided he would swallow his dignity and do whatever this man asked him to do.  

 

That was the only reason, of course--it had nothing to do with him not wanting to see disappointment in Gabriel’s eyes again, not at all.  He knew that Gabriel would never take him up on his offer; that man was buried in the closet about as deeply as he could get. Sam sniffed hard a few times and spat a glob of blood on the floor, being very careful to not get it anywhere near this irate officer.  “Just tell me what you want from me, sir.”  For once there was no innuendo in his tone, only a flat, unemotional sound.

 

Gradually, the guard unhooked his fingers from Sam’s hair and stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants, his expression one of repulsion. “Just...get back to work.” He leaned against the wall, tucking his baton back in place and crossing his arms, watching the brunette with routine distrust. The same filthy boot that had purposely squashed Sam’s fingers nudged a metal bucket of water forward, practically knocking it over. “Well? What the hell you waitin’ for? Get on it!”

 

Sam hissed as he tried to curl his smashed fingers around the handle of the bucket, giving up halfway through and, instead, using his left hand to pull it towards him.  Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he cradled his injured hand to his chest to keep it out of the way and took up the scrub brush again.  He made a wholehearted attempt at cleaning before he threw the brush down.  “Look, I can’t move these fingers, and I’m pretty sure they’re starting to swell.” He waved the afflicted hand. “Take me down to the infirmary, so I can get some aspirin or something to make the pain subside,” and, though it galled him, he added, “Please?”  

 

The guard leaned in, as if to examine Sam's fingers, then raised a brow, unimpressed. "They look normal ta me, maybe a little red, but definitely not swollen. Finish your work." As he returned to his 'post' against the wall, there was a small flicker in his eyes--he was obviously very much enjoying the power he had over Sam.

 

Sam ground his teeth together and set to his task, all the while cradling his injured hand, which throbbed spitefully.  It took him twice as long, but, eventually, he was able to finish the task at hand.  By the time it was over, though, his fingers had swollen to twice their size and were steadily turning a nasty purplish black.  On the plus side, they didn’t really hurt anymore.  As the brunette threw the brush into the bucket of water, he held up his likely broken fingers.  “All right,  I’m done,” there was a hint of weary resignation in his voice, “will you take me to the infirmary now, sir?”  

 

"I'll be the judge of whether or not you’ re done!" He made his way over to where Sam was and looked around, his hands on his hips. "You missed a lot," Practically motioning to everything all at once, the guard shook his head at Sam, "you're a pretty shitty janitor. If I were Naomi, I would've put you out of your misery a loooong time ago."

 

Sam clenched his teeth and picked up the brush again. “Lucky for me, capital punishment was obliterated ages ago.”  He crawled back to the toilet, knees screaming in protest.  “You know, I don’t think Gabriel will appreciate you letting me hurt like this,” as he spoke, he kept his tone tight, controlled,  “I’m pretty sure he wants to see me all better and free from this dump.” He paused mid-scrub. “What do you think he’ll do if, tomorrow, I tell him you let me go without treatment?”  A smirk found its way to his lips. “Get me painkillers and a finger splint, and I’ll be as silent as the grave.”

 

Although the guard fought to appear unfazed, it was obvious that he felt threatened by the mention of Gabriel. It was common knowledge that Sam was 'Gabriel's prisoner,' and, if anyone else were to trespass upon that, as this guard was, debatably, doing, well, saying that Gabriel would be displeased would be a major understatement. Still, he was insistent that he retain his control; this was a risk worth taking, or, at least, he hoped so.

 

"I'm not afraid of you, you dirty little whore. Finish the job."

 

Sam slumped against the wall and simply laughed, “Is that really the best you can come up with?” At least laughing somewhat distracted him from the subtle aches coursing through him, a result of spending too much time hunched over toilets. “I’ve had sex with precisely no one.  I had a boyfriend before they threw me in here.” He rubbed at his face with his good hand. “We were waiting.  We were going to get married,” He glared at the guard through his fingers. “You think about exactly how many girls have you fucked, and left, and then tell me who the real whore is.”

 

 "I didn't ask you about your disgusting personal life, I told you to finish cleaning!" The guard pulled out his baton once more, puffing himself up as much as he could manage as he approached Sam, who was a good few inches taller than him, even while slumping. "You going to listen or do I have to step on the rest of your fingers?"

 

Sam chuckled.  “Go right ahead,” He dropped his hands and stood a little straighter.  “Look, I’ll even make it easy on you.”  Sliding down the wall and to the floor, he carefully set his fingers on the tiles.  “I’m tired of fighting with you, dude.  I just want to get my hand taken care of and get some sleep tonight.”  He angled his head a little and winked at the camera, before turning his gaze back to the guard.  “Come on, man.  Don’t puss out on me.  Bring it.”

 

For a moment, the guard was at a loss, unsure whether or not he should follow through. Then, he decided that Sam was probably expecting him to back down; it would practically be criminal to let him off so easy. Narrowing his eyes, the guard stepped forward and, using his body weight as leverage, struck Sam in the head with his baton hard enough to wipe the smug little grin off of his face.

  
People always said they saw stars when they had a head injury; Sam never believed them until now.  His vision swam, the shitty lunch he ate earlier threatened to come back up, and he spat blood onto the floor.  “Izzat… allyou got?”  He grinned again, though it probably more resembled a grimace, and swayed against the wall.  “Come on.  Show me what a real man can do.”  Blood dribbled from between his lips as he reached a hand up to touch where he’d been hit. “Ow.  That actually kinda hurts,” was all Sam managed to murmur before his eyes fell closed, and he slipped from consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for adding to your pain friends.  
> Oh and when Sam was talking about his Virginity last chapter? He doesn't count the rape from the female guards and the males he seduced never got close enough to do anything.

When Sam at last came to, he was greeted with a bright light, right in his eyes, accompanied by a few voices speaking words he was not quite conscious enough to form into anything coherent.

 

Of course, when his ears just barely caught, 'moose,' he was about ninety-nine percent sure that one of said voices belonged to Crowley, the on-call doctor. At least that dipshit of a guard had done something right.

 

"Come on, Moose, I know you can hear me. I can see the sass dancing around in your eyes." The bright light seemed to flicker with the man's accent, as if it was trying to taunt him just as much.

 

Sam closed his eyes against the light’s glare and gave an undignified moan.  It felt like there were a thousand jackhammers chipping away at the inside of his skull; that being said, closing his eyes didn’t seem to help at all.  After another moment or two of trying to pretend it was all a dream, he opened his eyes again. “Hi Crowrey,” he mumbled and realized his cheek had been stuffed with cotton.  He probed it with his tongue for a moment, before giving up and lying still, eyes locked on the ceiling.

 

Crowley chuckled, the slight heel of his dress shoes clicking as he walked away from Sam's cot; he was, no doubt, cleaning supplies, given the rustling that followed shortly after. "It would appear that beauty sleep left you worse for the wear this time around. How did that runt take you down anyway, knick you behind the knees? Curious--last time I checked, I could have sworn you were sturdier than that."

 

Upon returning, the doctor held a glass of water and two little white pills. "You want that headache gone, I'm afraid you're going to have to work for it." He beckoned for Sam to sit up.

 

“I sat down,” he mumbled around the cotton,  “he smashed my fingers, and I sat down.”  Sam turned his head to the side, and the room swam.  “Uh, Doc?  Yeah, if I sit up, I’m gonna hurl.”  Just in case, he reached into his mouth and picked out the cotton; lord knows he didn’t want anything to get stuck in that.  With a loud and unenthusiastic groan, he propped himself up on his elbows, causing the room begin swirling even worse than before.  “Oh, fuck!” Almost immediately, he leaned over the side of the hospital bed and, spotting a silver kick bucket granted to him by luck--or Crowley, more realistically--vomited noisily into it.

 

Glass and pills still in hand, Crowley stood off to the side, waiting for Sam to finish. He was just about as unsympathetic a doctor could get; it was a wonder he'd actually made a career out of helping people. Then again, he did work at a prison. "That's what you get for sitting up too quickly."

 

Sam used the back of his hand to wipe the excess vomit from his mouth and sat the rest of the way up.  “Pain pills, please.” Swaying a little, he held out his hand.  “How long was I out?”  He hoped it wasn’t too long; there was nothing he wanted more than to get back to his nice little cell and sleep for a week, maybe five.  Then, his mind flashed back to the security tape, and a sudden, excited thrill ran through him.  Once Gabriel saw the tape, and he would, that guard was as good as fired.

 

“You were out a whole forty-five minutes, an hour at most.” Crowley nudged the soiled bucket away with the toe of his shoe, giving Sam the medication without hesitation. “Drink slowly, and try not to regurgitate those pills; I only have so many, and you’re not my most critical patient.” He left Sam’s bedside to grab his clipboard, folding a few pages over to re-evaluate the prisoner’s condition.

 

“Seriously? Ungh.”  Sam swallowed the pills down with a little bit of water and clenched his teeth against the gorge rising in his throat.  “So what happened?  What’d that asshole do to me?”  He couldn’t really remember anything after winking at the camera, but, judging by the pain in his head, he assumed that dick must have hit him pretty hard.  “Did he hit me?”  He leaned back into the hospital bed with a groan and closed his eyes again.  “How long am I going to feel like this?”

 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Crowley scolded Sam like a dog, whacking his left upper arm with the back of his clipboard, “Sorry, Winchester, you are suspended from shut eye until further notice. You have a concussion and, however minor, sleeping has the possibility of resulting in death. Now, as unfavorable as your company is, you are under my care, and I do, believe it or not, have a reputation to uphold.” He returned his gaze to the paperwork, tapping the thin wood of the clipboard as he read.

 

“For the next twenty-four hours, you’re stuck here so we can monitor you. I suggest you make yourself comfortable; it’s going to be a long night.” With that, Crowley set the clipboard down and left the room to attend to other patients. However, Sam was not alone for more than an instant before he was joined by a new guard--a no-nonsense, burly man who went by Uriel.

 

Uriel had been working for the prison long before Sam had joined the collection and was one of the few guards considered to be on the same level as Gabriel. With that, his distaste for Sam, perhaps, ran even deeper than anyone else's, save Naomi, probably because he'd been forced to deal with the prisoner's defiance on so many an occasion. Had he not valued his job, there was a good chance he would have strangled Sam himself and blamed it on the concussion. He still might.

 

Sam blinked blearily at Crowley and gave the doctor his best effort at flipping the bird, before he turned to face Uriel.  “Oh, they sent you,” he mumbled and rolled over on his side so his back was to the large man.  “I’m not in the mood to play today, so you don’t have to worry about anything. I swear.”  He curled into the fetal position. “Just poke me,” his words slurred together, “if it looks like I’m about to sleep, okay?  I’ll spare you the indignity of having to talk to me.”  Then, he whined and prodded the bed with his unbroken fingers, “Why couldn’t they have called Gabriel in, at least he’s pretty to look at.”  

 

“Trust me, if I could’ve gotten somebody else to babysit you, I would’ve,” Uriel replied gruffly, whether or not Sam had actually wanted a response. He crossed his arms, observing Sam from where he stood beside the door, all the way across the room, as if the man had some kind of highly contagious disease; then again, as far as the guard was concerned, Sam actually did have a catchable disease. He did not speak again, and it was not as if he had to; his expression said it all, Why the hell did I get stuck with this asshole? I have more important things to do. What a goddamn joke.

 

Sam rolled over briefly to stick his tongue out at Uriel in a childish display of defiance.  “Don’t be like that,” he mumbled when he rolled back over.  “It’s a secret, so don't tell anyone you don't like me, okay?" Had this been any other circumstance, Sam would have been confused by the gibberish coming from his mouth. Now though? It all made perfect sense. "Gonna take a nap now, wake me up when Gabriel gets here, okay?" He buried his head into the thin pillow and let his eyes drift closed.

 

Uriel sighed heavily and made his way over to the cot, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and shaking him roughly awake. “You heard the doctor. No shutting your eyes. No naps. No sleeping.” He was practically grinding his teeth, his tone stern and extremely agitated; it had not even been fifteen minutes yet.

 

“Well excuse me,” Sam rolled over onto his back, “I’m sorry for having a concussion.  I’ll be certain to fix that as soon as possible to avoid inconveniencing you.”  He stuck his tongue out again.  “I think the doc gave me something that makes me sleepy.  The pain…” he trailed off and tilted his head to the side, staring unblinking at the ceiling for a minute, before resuming his train of thought, “is there, but it kind of takes a backseat.  Wow.  These are some really good drugs.”  He knew he should be more alert than this, and a small portion of his mind clawed at him to stay awake and rational, but he shook it off.  “I bet that taking these would even get you to smile, man.”  Sam stared at the ceiling some more before uttering a very unnerving giggle.

 

The guard grunted in frustration and rubbed his temples, realizing that he could not watch Sam from afar as he had originally planned to. Leave it to Crowley to prescribe him something that made him act like even more of a lunatic than usual.

 

For about an hour, Sam continued to irritate the shit out of Uriel, who had no other choice than to put up with him and occasionally shake him awake whenever he began to drift off. When the door finally opened, and Gabriel stepped inside, Uriel was out of there before the other guard could even ask to be caught up on Sam’s condition.

 

Sam did not see Gabriel come in, nor did he notice when Uriel left.  He curled around the tiny pillow and mumbled, “Uriel, just let me sleep, you ass.  Seriously.  If I died, who the fuck would care?  You guys all hate me anyway.”  He flailed his hand out to ward off the hand that he knew was on it’s way to shake him.

 

“Just because you’re bed-ridden doesn’t mean you have to be downright depressing.”

 

Gabriel sat at the edge of Sam’s bed, making a small imprint in the mattress. He took hold of the brunette’s shoulder, his touch significantly gentler than that of the other guard, or anyone else, for that matter.

 

Sam’s eyes widened, and he rolled over, heedless of the headache and the nausea. “They called you,” there was raw, unbridled hope in his voice.  “They called you here and sent Uriel away?”  It may have been the drugs, but Sam could not have been happier to see the guard.  He reached for Gabriel, but drew his arm back with a hiss as pain lanced up from his fingers.  He smiled despite the pain.  Sam had it bad if the mere sight of Gabriel could lift his spirits so drastically.  

 

“Yeah, well, apparently word is out on how horrid you are; no other guard would take the job. Looks like I’m stuck with you yet again,” Gabriel kept his voice especially soft, its usual snark toned down quite a bit; if anyone asked, he was simply being wary of Sam’s headache. His hand moved from Sam’s shoulder to his shattered fingers, and he carefully lifted the afflicted hand, his own fingertips against the other man’s palm. “Now, let me see…”

 

Sam’s breath hitched at the contact, and he hoped to every god that there may or may not be that the drug and the pain would keep his erection down.  To be safe, he pictured everything disgusting he could think of.  Naomi.  Naomi and Crowley.  Naomi and that guard Rachael. He shivered a little, feeling thoroughly disgusted.  “Muriel stomped on them,” he said quietly,  “I called him sweetcheeks, forgot he wasn’t you.” Sam’s lips twitched in a half grin, and he shrugged with one shoulder.  “Oh, and I have a concussion.  Did they tell you?”

 

Gabriel scowled, draping his other hand over Sam’s hand. “That little bastard gave you a concussion? What did you do, take him on with your hands tied behind your back?” He sighed, attempting to push away the concern that had briefly saturated his voice. “You should know better than to get on other guards’ bad sides, Sam. Not everyone has my wonderful personality, after all.”

 

Sam thought that accusation was terribly unfair.  “I accidentally called him a name, and then I apologized.  He was a real dick about it though--beat me up, then wouldn’t let me get help for my hand.”  These drugs made it hard to talk like anything other than a four-year-old.  “And it took me twice as long to clean, and then he wanted to make me do it over again!  So, I told him you wouldn’t like it if I was hurt.  He threatened me again, and I  basically told him to hit me, and get it over with, or leave me alone.”  Sam giggled again. “I winked at the security camera.  Wait ‘til you see it!  After that, ’m pretty sure he hit me in the head.” He tilted his head to the side slightly and grinned. “I wake up here, and they finally called you!”  He left his hand right where it was; wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag that hand from it’s warm and cozy resting spot.

 

Fingers tapping lightly against the Sam’s palm, Gabriel listened intently to the story, occasionally chuckling because the recap sounded so ridiculous through the subtle slur of Sam’s words. “I’ll take a look at the tapes and see what I can do, all right?” he offered at the story’s conclusion. “In the mean time, I need you to behave, and I mean really behave, Sam, do you understand me?” Given the prisoner’s heavily-medicated state, this instruction was probably a lost cause. Still, Gabriel had to try. He was tired of watching Sam continuously make things worse for himself; sooner or later, he was going to get into some real trouble.

 

Sam smiled and nodded.  “I tried though, Gabe.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth unnoticed.  “I tried.  I did exactly what he wanted me to do, what I was told to do.  I didn’t even fight back.  You’ll see.” He hummed softly at the tapping and twitched his good fingers to try and reciprocate.  “I’m not the only one who’ll get in trouble though,” his voice dropped until it could barely be heard, “You gotta stop holding my hand.  They’re gonna think you’re not what you say you are.  They’re gonna start rumors, you gotta stop.  I _can’t_.”  

 

With a soft sigh, Gabriel set Sam’s hand down, giving it one last pat before drawing both of his own hands into his pockets. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding the other’s hand for the course of their conversation until Sam had said something and, as much as he hated to admit it, Sam had been right. Better safe than sorry, he thought, just as he had when Sam had held him up against the wall in Naomi’s office, better safe than sorry.

 

“Listen,” he hardened his tone in hopes of compensating for the extent of his hand-holding, “you’re just going to have to try harder. You know how things are around here, and you certainly know who not to mess with. Keep tabs on that mouth of yours, so I don’t have to.” As he stood, Gabriel realized a little too late that his intended warning hadn’t quite come out as he’d hoped, and that didn’t exactly help his situation. Still, he brushed it off with a gruff expression, crossing his fingers that, for once, Sam would refrain from making one of his infamous crude remarks. “And don’t think you can get away with sleeping, I’m going to be right against the wall.”

  
Sam’s jaw clenched with simulated anger, and the look of hate he directed Gabriel’s way would have caused any lesser man to flinch.  “Yes, sir,” he bit out from between clenched teeth and turned away to bury his face in the pillow, so the cameras couldn’t see him.  His shoulders shook with silent laughter that, to a casual observer, might have seemed like crying.  Still, he knew Gabriel cared about him and that was enough--for now, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

“All right, Moose, you’re clear to go.”

 

Crowley quickly scribbled his signature on Sam’s paperwork, ripping it off and foldinging it, before setting it on the countertop at the far end of the room. He waved a dismissive hand at his patient, as well as Gabriel, who was standing right beside Sam’s cot, ready to lead him out.

 

Upon leaving the room, the doctor made apparent, simply in his mannerisms, that he was moving onto bigger, more important cases. Gabriel rolled his eyes as the door shut behind Crowley, and then turned to Sam. “You ready then? You can stand, right?” When he was met with a raised eyebrow, he held his hands up defensively and added, “Hey, I’m just checking! It wouldn’t be the first time that insincere dick cleared a patient who wasn’t actually well enough to leave.”

 

Sam dug his toes into his shoes and tapped the ground with his heels a few times before heaving himself up and off of the cot.  He swayed a moment, then reached out and gripped the shoulder of Gabriel’s uniform, leaning heavily against the smaller man.  “Gimme a minute,” he swallowed hard and looked a little wild eyed, “my legs are killing me for some reason.”

 

Gabriel cocked a brow at Sam, nevertheless grabbing his arm to help steady him. “I’m the one who’s been on my feet all day, and your legs are killing you? Damn, you’ve really let yourself go.” Even as he spoke, he did not relinquish his hold on Sam; he would tease, yes, but, if the brunette really was that unsteady, he was not about to actually let him fend for himself, no matter who might be watching. “But seriously, it might be an after effect of the medication? I don’t know, just, for god’s sake, Sam, you’d better not crush me!”

 

“Shut up, my feet feel weird!”  Sam wiggled his toes again.  “I don’t think it’s the meds, I think its due to the fact that no one would let me out of bed for twenty-four fucking hours and wouldn’t let me sleep either.”  His speech was a little slow and stiff, likely due to the swelling in his jaw.  “Fucking hurts to talk too,” he muttered.  He let go of Gabriel’s shoulder and swayed a little, before taking a tentative step forward, and then another.  “Okay.  I think I can manage the rest of the way back to my cell.  Oh, I’m going to sleep for a week after I get back.”

 

“Thanks for sharing. Now, stop whining and get moving!” Gabriel nudged Sam forward almost playfully, making sure to keep his arm out and at the ready, just in case the taller man decided to topple.

 

The walk back, though not exceptionally long, was much more difficult than Gabriel had originally realized. While Sam could walk, his coordination was horribly off--probably a side effect of the medication or worse, his head injury--and, more often than not, he fumbled into the guard, threatening to knock him right off of his feet.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Sam kept murmuring, even as he fumbled again and again.  When they came in sight of his cell, though, he gave a long sigh of relief and hobbled a bit faster.  He beat Gabriel to the bars by a few steps and leaned against the wall in a valiant attempt to stay upright.

 

"You all right there, Sam?" Gabriel asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice. He unlocked the cell and helped the prisoner inside, to his bed. "Why don't you get some sleep? God knows you need it."

 

Sam face-planted into his pillow.  “Yes.  Thank you.  Your suggestion will be taken under advisement.  Please forward all calls to the answering service, as Sam will not be in to answer anything in a few minutes.”  He curled into the fetal position and nuzzled his pillow with a contented sigh.  “Thank you, Jeeves, you may leave.” And then, he closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.  

 

Even though Sam had conked out, Gabriel stuck around for a few minutes before locking up. Half of it was, of course, because he wanted to make sure Sam was all right, but, the other half of it was that he didn’t want to move onto his next ‘task,’ so to speak. When he had come back in--on his day off, as he refused to let Sam forget--Naomi had pulled him aside moments before he had headed over to the infirmary to relieve Uriel. She’d insisted that, as soon as Sam was cleared, they have a meeting; it was supposedly of the ‘utmost importance.’

 

With an exasperated sigh, the guard made his way down the hall and towards Naomi’s office, keys bouncing against his hip and jingling as he walked. He’d worked there long enough, one would think he’d be used to Naomi by now. However, as he idled anxiously just outside of her office, Gabriel knew that was not the case. She just had that effect on people, he figured.

 

Finally, he knocked, then stepped inside.

 

“Oh, you’re here.” She didn’t even bother to look up from the papers that had amassed on her desk.  “Good.  Gabriel, I need to speak with you about Mr. Winchester,” she checked a few things off on the paper she was looking over,  “first and foremost, his attachment to you.  We need to separate you two, because, as long as he’s staring at you, I don’t think he’s going to get any better.”  She turned around in her chair and steepled her fingers underneath her chin.  “You also need to stop being so nice to him.  It’s gotten so bad that he won’t listen to anyone but you, and that needs to change.  You do want him healthy again, don’t you?”  

 

Gabriel scoffed softly, fingers messing with his keys as he listened. “Of course, I want him healthy. But, seriously, the kid has been through hell; don’t you think a little kindness will do him good?” He knew he was walking on thin ice as it was, however, Gabriel refused to simply sit back and let Naomi screw everything up. He’d been working with Sam from the get-go, like hell he was going to let her just up and replace him! “Besides, I doubt that changing his guard is going to do much, unless you consider making him more difficult to be improvement.”

 

“We’re not here to be kind, Gabriel,” Naomi said crisply.  “If you think that you can get the boy better with kindness then, please, be my guest.”  There was a challenge in her eyes.  “You have three months to get his behavior turned around and get him on the road to recovery.” She turned back to her paperwork.  “If you do not manage this, then I will be speaking to you again, as we will have to take more… _drastic_ measures.”  She pulled a sheet of printed paper out and handed it to him.  “This sheet describes a procedure that’s been successfully implemented at some of the other institutions.  Read over it, but do _not_ tell the Winchester boy about it.  I do _not_ want him to try subterfuge to get out of a proper healing.”  She tapped her nails against the desk thoughtfully.  “You should also take a look at the security tapes.  I heard what Muriel tried to pass off as his version of what happened, and I want to hear what you think about his actions.  Surprising as it may seem, it is my opinion that Mr. Winchester did not provoke a reaction of that magnitude from the guard.  He seems to be quite innocent, in this case; I’d be grateful to hear your opinion on the matter.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be looking those tapes over as soon as I can,” Gabriel replied, and, as he took the papers from her hand, it took all his self control to keep from snatching them instead. He looked them over very briefly, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as his eyes scanned back and forth. “With all due respect, this sounds like utter nonsense.  I’m pretty damn sure my methods have more chance, and that’s saying something! Whose idea was this, anyway?”

 

“These orders came from the top,” Naomi’s smile was chilly.  “We’re to use it on the more troublesome patients, effective immediately.  I know how you feel about this one, however, so, I’m prepared to send some bullshit medical excuse to the boss for the time being.  This concussion gives us a good one--he’ll need to be monitored for months until all his symptoms have gone away.  Make sure he’s ready to be helped by then.” She turned from him.  “You’re dismissed.  Go watch that video, and then report back to me.  I want your standpoint, and then we need to talk about what to do with Muriel.”

 

Gabriel sighed and set the paper Naomi had handed him back on her desk, amongst the surprisingly-neat piles that were already there. “Yeah, all right,” he murmured, before turning on his heel and moving towards the door with more eagerness than he had originally intended to show. As soon as he was out of her office, he headed a little farther down the hall, on his way to the security office.

 

The office was an ugly little room with monitors lining the walls and a lone guard, whose only job was to watch the tapes and change them out when they got full. Alastair was currently leaned back in his chair with a nasty little smile on his face, reading a porn magazine and ignoring everything around him.  

 

Upon entering, Gabriel knocked lightly against the doorframe with his knuckle and cleared his throat for added emphasis. “Alastair, I’m here for the tapes from the other day; no doubt Naomi’s already enlightened you on the ones I am talking about.” Arms crossed, the guard waited for a response. He’d always seen Alastair as a rotten pig of a man, and, although he didn’t agree with having him in charge of the security tapes, it was better than the other jobs he could have been appointed.

 

Alastair grabbed a tape that had been sitting in front on him and handed it to Gabriel over his shoulder.  “Here,” he snorted, “you know what to do with it.  Just leave it in the tape player when you’re done.  I’ll take it to the archives later.”  

 

With a nod, the guard made his way through the cluttered space, to the tape player, inserting the tape and settling down to watch it. He had a good idea of what he was going to see, but, for Sam’s sake, he vowed to watch it all the way through. Proof was, of course, of the utmost importance, especially in this particular facility, with this particular patient.

 

As the tape rolled, it showed Gabriel more or less what he expected.  Sam attempted to do his job, and Muriel attacked him, simple as that--kind of.  There was no sound, but he could almost imagine the noise the baton made when it cracked into Sam’s skull.  Before that, however, Gabriel caught the little wink Sam had been bragging about earlier, and he could not help but smile despite himself.

 

When he’d seen all he’d needed to see, he shut the tv off and headed back to Naomi’s office, reluctance making his feet drag. This time around, he didn’t even bother to knock.

 

“As we suspected, Sam’s innocent; Muriel provoked and beat him without probable cause.” Gabriel lingered in the doorway, glancing in the direction of Naomi’s desk. It was obvious that he was hoping she wasn’t going to keep him long.

 

She raised her eyebrows.  “And the wink?  What do you suspect that was all about?”  She folded her hands on her desk and fixed him with a very penetrating stare.  “It’s obvious to me that he wanted it to be seen, my only question is _why_.”  

 

“I thought you’d be used to him by now--the wink didn’t mean anything, it was just something he threw in to show us that, even though he was being submissive, nobody had broken him. Hell, Sam wanted to rub it in your face that he’s still just as rebellious as before.” A tad flustered, Gabriel crossed his arms, looking down.

 

“Mmm.”  She clicked her tongue absently.  “I see.” Then she switched thoughts, “So you think that we should fire Muriel?  Set him up outside of this facility with some other job or should we just reassign him so as to keep him away from young Samuel?  Maybe put him on monitor duty with Alastair?”

 

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less what you do with the idiot, but I do think it’d be smart to keep him the hell away from Sam.” Gabriel started to shrug, then paused, brow wrinkling. “Then again, if you don’t intend to terminate him, you should at least come up with some kind of punishment to keep him in line, ya know?”

 

Naomi watched him for a few moments, not speaking for a while, before she sighed and waved him out.  “Fine.  You’re dismissed.  You can take the next few days off to make up for coming in; we’re going to give Mr. Winchester time to recover from his injuries before we start his therapy again.”  She turned back to her papers and began filling out a form of sorts.

 

“Thanks, I guess,” Gabriel mumbled as he ducked out of the office, hands buried in his pockets. For a moment, he simply leaned against the wall and let his mind wander. She’d given him a few days off? Why, that was rare indeed. The problem was, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with a few days; he could barely occupy himself for one day, much less multiple. What a ridiculous realization.

  
Finally, after a few moments of considering, the guard got off of the wall and headed for his car, silently promising himself that he would keep his thoughts far from this place for the next couple days. He really needed to get out more anyway.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch between two good friends

“You don’t talk to me for weeks, and then you call me up out of the blue for lunch,” Balthazar sauntered up to the booth Gabriel was sitting in and slid into the seat opposite the guard.  “I’m wounded, Gabriel.  Really.” He folded his hands on the table and raised his eyebrows. “So, what’s going on that you suddenly have time off from that awful place you work at?”  

 

“It’s good to see you too, buddy.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and gave Balthazar a cheeky grin. “Funny you should ask. There was a bit of a...situation, and they called me into work on my day off. To make up for it, they gave me three personal days, with pay, so I figured I’d treat you to lunch. However, if you’re not feeling lunch today, I could always spend my money on another lottery ticket…”  

 

“Oh, hardy har.”  Balthazar signaled the waitress.  “You know I’m always up to spending your money.  So, what happened?  You look like shit, my friend.” When the waitress finally made her way over to the table, “Be a dear and get me a soda, love?  Coke if you have it, Sprite if you don’t.  Now where was I?  Oh yes.  You look like you haven’t slept in a week, that inmate… something to do with a gun, he still giving you a hard time?”  

 

“Oh wow, Sprite, really going crazy today, aren’t we?” Gabriel snicked, ordering a Pepsi for himself, “And, I will admit that I don’t sleep enough, but, come on, it can’t be that bad. I’m ridiculously good-looking, or did you forget because we’ve been apart too long?” He made a quiet ‘tsk’ing sound with his tongue, leaning back into his chair.

 

“Hard to say,” Balthazar smirked, “You’ll have to ask my sister for her opinion.  Oh!  That’s right, you can’t.  She dumped you and said she never wanted to see you again.”  The smirk fell away as his forehead creased with worry.  “I’m serious though.  You look like Death warmed over, and, by the way, you’re avoiding the topic; I’m guessing rifle boy is at the center of it again.”  Balthazar had his own suspicions about Gabriel, but was polite enough to never mention them in public and, coming from Britain, didn’t have nearly as many problems as the natives did.  

 

Gabriel sighed into a laugh, rubbing his face. "What can I say? You know me too well, Balth." It was obvious that he didn't really want to talk about it but, if Gabriel knew Balthazar, there was no way of keeping things to himself now. "It's just a little stress, that's all. I work with prisoners, not puppy dogs; after a while, they start to get to you. That's all." He gritted his teeth.

 

Balthazar held his hands up in mock surrender.  “I give in!” He sighed and folded his arms on the table.  “So what, if not work, did you want to talk about, old friend?”  The smirk returned, “Have you found a new lady friend?  I, myself ,have,” he paused and started counting on his fingers, “You know, I can’t even recall how many women have had my blessing.”  

 

In response, Gabriel pursed his lips, his eye twitch indistinctly. “You’re a fiend, Balth, a downright fiend, you know that?” He laughed a little, rolling his shoulders back and stretching. “I haven’t found anyone, not really. Just same old, same old. You’re the most interesting broad in my life,” he winked smugly, “too bad you ain’t all that pretty, otherwise I’d take you to lunch more often.”

 

“You might want to keep your voice down, old friend.” Balthazar said, suddenly serious, “You know more than I, how things innocently said in public can get back to one’s boss.”  The waitress returned bearing their glasses and set them down.  When she straightened, she was eyeing them peculiarly.  Balthazar seized on the moment, “Thank you, my love.” He caught her hand and kissed it, “Are you free later?  My friend has just admitted to being unattached and sad; take mercy on him and give the poor sod a date?”

 

The waitress merely shook her head and flashed her wedding ring before she giggled, “You boys getting anything to eat today?”

 

Balthazar nodded and pointed to a burger on the menu.  “This one, hold the mayo and the onions.”  

 

"I'll take the same, but with everything.” Gabriel handed her the menu without making eye contact, his eyes, instead, narrowed at Balthazar. Once she had gone, he swatted his friend’s arm. “You ass, I don’t want a date with some random waitress. What were you thinking?” He knew Balthazar had been joking, to some extent anyway, but he was touchy, more or less because of the subject matter. “Besides, I can get my own damn dates if I want to!” He blew a raspberry and leaned back, pouting rather childishly.

 

“You idiot,” Balthazar hissed, “You’ve got to keep those comments down.  Don’t you remember what they did to Castiel?  He made a joke--a single joke--around the wrong person, and they fucked him over in one of those hideous places _you_ work at.  I am _trying_ to keep you from getting arrested!”

 

“All I said was I didn’t want to date a random waitress, that’s not going to get me arrested.” Gabriel gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. He didn’t want to deal with this right now, all he wanted to have a casual lunch with his buddy. Would God not even grant him that? “I am well aware of what happened to Cas, you don’t have to remind me.” He took a sip of his drink, resting his cheek against his palm, and visibly slumping against the seat.

 

Then, as if nothing had happened, “So, have you been able to hold down a decent job yet?”

 

Balthazar shot him an irritated glare.  “I decided to put my bilingual prowess to work.  I applied to teach high school French.” He took a swig of his own soda. “They’ve had me observe a class already, and, I must say, children are _monsters_.  I will gladly stick to my hedonistic lifestyle of falling through women, thank you very much.” He snorted.  

 

"So, I take it you didn't take the job?" Gabriel cocked a brow, grabbing at his soda again and finishing it off. Now that the subject had moved away from him, he seemed much more relaxed. "Or did you just decide to tough it? You're good at that."

 

“I decided to tough this one out.  There were one or two of the little bastards that I actually liked.  Reminded me of me,” Balthazar laughed, “Their parents are going to have conniptions when parent teacher conferences roll around.”  He rubbed his hands together and cackled.

 

“Oh I don’t doubt that, not one bit.” Gabriel snickered a bit at the thought of Balthazar dealing with parents; it was even funnier than the mental images that came about when he thought of his long-time buddy dealing with young children. “Well, when you get really into that job of yours, you give me a call, ya hear? I want to hear stories!”

 

“You want to hear stories of these miserable rugrats?”  Balthazar shrugged, “Whatever--I believe the phrase is: whatever floats your boat, Gabriel.”  He laughed, “Does this mean you’re going to live vicariously through me and never settle down with a pretty girl?”  

 

In that moment, Gabriel was reminded of earlier, when Balthazar had snapped at him for his joking comment; he immediately felt stupid and sunk into his chair a bit. “Balth, I...I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” He made sure to keep his voice down this time. “Y-You...know my situation. Hell, you’re the one who keeps fucking bringing it up.” He sighed and looked away, tapping his fingers against the table nervously.

 

Balthazar sighed, “You’re a good man Gabriel.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise,” he nodded a thanks to the waitress, who brought them their burgers,  “Oh, and don’t let rifle boy drive you crazy.  He’s just one prisoner, after all.  There are plenty more who are more willing to give this cure thing a try.  Maybe start with one of them.  Who knows?  Maybe a successful rehabilitation will make you feel better.”

 

“Yeah, I guess, but, Balth, haven’t you ever...considered that, maybe it’s all a big waste of time?” He kept his voice extra quiet now, leaning down and looking up at his friend. “I mean, I’m starting to doubt more and more that our efforts are done for their benefit at all. You’d think it’d be the opposite, yet…” Gabriel shook his head, poking at his burger, “I dunno man, I just don’t know anymore.”

 

Balthazar leaned forward, “To tell you the truth, my old friend, I’ve never found barbarism to be a particularly effective mode of changing _anyone_.  But, what happens next is up to you.  I can’t see the situation here changing, and I’m getting out of here and going back home as soon as I make enough money.  Britain’s shores are calling me home.”  

 

Gabriel smiled wearily. “If I had the money, I’d join you in a heartbeat.” Of course, he only meant that to an extent; there was no way he could simply up and leave, even if he did have the means to. Maybe if Sam ever managed to get his act together and get released, but he couldn’t see that happening soon, and Lord knows Gabriel hadn’t the heart to leave him in there to rot, even if he pretended not to care sometimes. Everything was complicated, and it was starting to physically give him migraines.

  
Balthazar frowned at his burger and took a few bites.  He was silent for quite a few minutes, before he sighed and gave a sad little smile.  “No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something semi-sweet for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something semi-sweet for you!

Sam made good on his promise to sleep for a week.  He was in and out of consciousness over the next several days and generally acted much more pleasant.  He ate his meals with no complaints and never once spoke back to any of the guards who poked and prodded him into the showers while Gabriel was on leave.

 

This, however, caused an unfortunate rise in hostilities throughout the facility--that is, until the boss took an interest in the proceedings and told Naomi, in no uncertain terms, that she was to terminate this behavior.  Word soon got around that any guard found beating prisoners would find him or herself fired immediately.  

 

The inmates all thought Sam was a hero.  

 

The guards?  Not so much.  

 

But, regardless, life was much more pleasant for everyone involved after the “incident,” as it began to be referred to.

 

The weekend finally rolled around, and Sam was awake enough, or so he told himself, to be let out into the yard with the other inmates of his wing.  He still had trouble walking, of course, but that didn’t stop him from whining at Gabriel to be let out, like a dog stuck in a kennel for too long.  “C’mon, man!  Get me a wheelchair or something!  I need to be out in the sunshine; I haven’t seen the sun in months!”

 

Gabriel gave an exasperated sigh. "Are you actually going to behave this time around? I need not remind you how things went last time." Still, he knew Sam was as sincere as he was ever going to get, and set off to fetch a wheelchair. Upon returning, he wheeled it into Sam's cell and patted the seat. "All right, step right up, I'll push you around like a baby."

 

Sam stuck his tongue out, but stood and lurched over to the wheelchair anyway.   “I’ll get you for that, just you wait," he grumbled and settled himself in the seat, "so, tell me, what’s been going on over the last week?  I’ve had no less than three people thank me for something, and I’m not even sure what I did.”

 

"I forgot, you've been hibernating for the past week. The big boss man found out about Muriel's...impulsive injustices and took action--now, any guard that gets caught abusing their power is fired on the spot." Gabriel chuckled, wheeling Sam out. "It's made you rather popular amongst the inmates."

 

“And rather unpopular amongst the guards, I assume.”  Sam sighed and rubbed his neck, “I just can’t win around here, can I?” He stared at the walls for a minute before he craned his neck back to look at Gabriel, “Anyone I need to specifically watch out for?”  

 

"Not that I can think of, actually," Gabriel cracked a little smile at the thought, "most of them have already fucked up and gotten their asses kicked out. Ha! Imagine that. You have to be pretty damn undesirable to be kicked out of a prison."

 

The courtyard came into view, and the blonde pushed Sam out, a slight bounce in his step. He enjoyed the warmth the sunlight just about as much as the prisoners did.

 

Sam stretched out in the chair and dug the toes of his shoes into the grass and dirt.  “Holy shit,” he mumbled as he slumped further down into the seat,  "this feels friggen fantastic.  Do you mind if I just curl up and take a nap out here?  Seriously.  This is the greatest thing to happen to me in at least a month.”  

 

"A nap? Really? You've been sleeping for days, don't you think this trip would be better spent conscious?" Gabriel shook his head, rocking on his feet. "I don't understand you sometimes, Sam. Well, most of the time, for that matter."

 

Sam made a noise like a contented cat.  “I’m not here for you to understand.  I’m here to, well, to get out.” He nibbled at his bottom lip, “I’m here in this place because there are insane people that run this country.  I’m here on this earth to be happy and to enjoy the sunlight while I can.”

 

Gabriel could not help but smile. Sam could be a damn pain in the ass at times, but, when it really came down to it, he was witty and extremely down to earth. The guard would have loved to see what he had been like before the judgement and cruelty within these stone walls had hardened him. He must have been terribly charming. He still was charming.

 

Shaking himself from such thoughts, the guard glanced at Sam, tapping his fingers against his own upper arm. "So, you think you're ever going to get 'better?'" One could practically hear the air quotations in his voice.

 

Sam twisted in the wheelchair to stare at him.  “Better?  I… no.  I don’t think so.  I might be able to pretend until I get out though.” He frowned.  “I…” he trailed off.  “I’ve been here a while.  I’m not sure if I could even go back out there and be normal again.  How do you function in the real world?” he murmured, “How does one go from this life in here to life out there?”  

 

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Sam; you're resourceful." Gabriel attempted to keep it light, though, he knew Sam was right. Adapting to the real world again, that was going to be more difficult than actually getting back out into the real world. "But seriously, Naomi has been talking about new treatments..." He wasn't quite sure how else to bring it up, he just wanted Sam to be prepared; he cared for him, he honestly did, more than he should, far more than he was supposed to.

 

Sam sighed.  “Has she?  Finally figured out that telling me I was sick wasn’t going to work?" He fell silent for a few moments, then,  “What did she tell you? Please, tell me.  I want to know what I’m going up against.”  

 

_Oh, you know, she only showed me the goddamn paper._ Gabriel bit his lip. "She didn't say much, she only told me that, if you didn't show improvement soon, more drastic measures were going to have to be taken." Technically, he wasn't lying, he was simply summarizing Naomi's words; he was just withholding some, or all, of what he'd read on the informational paper, in hopes that Sam would take him seriously now. Maybe they would not have to go down that road.

 

Sam snorted.  “Drastic.  Yeah right.”  He wiggled in the chair to relieve some pressure on his back.  “There’s only one reason for me to try and get out of here, and, if you can’t figure it out…” he trailed off, suddenly angry.  “I don’t want to get better.  I just want to get out of here.  Or not.  There are days I want to leave, but, mostly, I want to stay just so I can be… fuck.  Sorry.”

 

Gabriel raised a brow, but refrained from commenting, even though he was about ninety-eight percent positive that he knew _exactly_ what Sam was talking about. That simply was not going to happen; it couldn’t, not given their circumstances. It would just complicate everything. “Sam, I’m serious. If you want to get the hell out of here and actually, I don’t know, start a life of some kind, you’re going to have to play along. Fake it, I don’t care, I just…” his voice kept getting quieter and quieter, until it simply faded into a sigh, “I don’t want to see you waste away in here, that’s all.”

 

Sam laughed, bitterly.  They’d had this discussion before, many, _many_ times.  “I’ll try,” he promised quietly,  “but only if you promise me something in return.” He fiddled with the arm of the wheelchair, where the fake leather was cracked and peeling.  “I need you to promise me something, man,” he repeated, craning his neck back again so he could stare into Gabriel’s eyes.

 

“What?” Gabriel asked, the question coming out breathy and slightly rushed. He met the prisoner’s eyes with nothing short of great difficulty, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks, no matter how hard he tried to will it away. “Y-You know I don’t make deals with inmates…” _Not that you’re just any other prisoner._

 

Sam simply stared at him.  “You have to promise me that, when I get out of here, one way or the other, man, you leave.  Go get a job somewhere else.  Move to Canada.  Get out of here.  This place is killing you, and I can see it every single time you look at me.”  Sam looked like he was going to reach back to grab the guard’s hand, but he started picking at the arm of the wheelchair again instead.  “Promise me, Gabriel.  Get out of here.  Stop lying to yourself, and get out of this place.  Stop trying to compensate and be someone you’re not.”  

 

Gabriel wasn’t sure how to react. He should’ve gotten angry, but Sam, well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. This job, it was consuming his life, yet, he knew that, once upon another time, he’d had different goals and aspirations. Hell, he still did, they had just been lost, muffled and pushed away by a little something called harsh reality.

 

“Wh-What do you want me to say, Sam? You...want me to promise?” He reanimated his face and chanced a toothy grin, patting the handle of the wheelchair. “Fine. If you manage to get cleared, I’ll get outta here. It won’t be any fun without you anyway; you’re the only one in this damned place that has even a smidge of a sense of humor.”

 

“Don’t forget about the honesty part,” Sam said quite softly.  “Telling yourself the truth goes into that promise too.  I’m not asking you to ever act on it, but, just, look over your options before you go."  Sam licked his lips and added, “Thank you.  For that, for _you_ , I’ll do what I can to convince them I’m cured.”  

 

In response, Gabriel only nodded, refraining from making the snide shrink joke he could have easily made. His hand moved from the wheelchair handle to Sam’s shoulder, his fingers squeezing so subtly, it was hardly a squeeze at all. Then, he pulled away and stepped to the left a little, turning to look up at the sky. There was a kind of hopefulness building up in his chest, a hopefulness that only Sam seemed to be able to invoke as of late--it was slight, but not insignificant, because it was very real, and that was something he could hold onto, even if only to get himself through the rest of the day.

  
Gabriel found that, more and more, he was relying on these little spurts of light to keep him going, and it scared him, almost more than the idea of coming to a complete standstill in his life. Funny how a cheeky, pain in the ass inmate like Sam could turn out to be such a blessing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of flashbacks

  
Sam paced around the small, dark room he’d been dropped in for solitary confinement.  “Stupid, stupid,”  he slammed his fists against the wall in frustration,  “how could you have let them do this to you, you idiot?”  A week in solitary always brought about his need to talk to himself.  “You were so close.  So. goddamn. close.  Why?!”  He let his back collide with the wall, and he slid to the floor, cradling his face in his hands.  “You were so close.  They were going to let you go.  Naomi was writing up the papers.  How in the hell could you have let yourself fall so far?”

 

“Wh-What the fuck is wrong with me?”  He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  

 

After speaking with Gabriel, Sam had made a genuine effort to convince everyone, especially Naomi, that he’d changed his ways and was on the road to recovery. It had, of course, been utter bullshit, but it was believable enough to almost lead to his release, _almost_.

 

One careless mistake led to his ruin, all his hard work down the drain. As soon as Gabriel found out, the guard was going to be damn disappointed in him, too, maybe worse.

 

For now, trapped like a rat and much worse for the wear, all Sam could do was wait--for Gabriel’s reaction, to learn his fate; wait and reflect. God knows endlessly mulling over his mistake was much fouler a punishment than anything they could do to him now--well, anything he _thought_ they could do to him.

 

When Sam had begun his master plan, he’d never anticipated it would turn out like this...

 

+++++

 

_Sam sprawled out on Naomi’s couch and played with a loose string while he waited for her to show up.  It was their first session since the beating and his talk with Gabriel.  Left alone with his thoughts, he was worried and could not help but wonder how to make this miraculous turnaround believable.  People didn’t just up and change after so long._

 

_"Good morning, Samuel."_

 

_Naomi stepped inside of the office and took her usual seat across from Sam; it was just any other day, as far as she was concerned. "How is your head? You seem much better." The disinterest in her tone expressed how little she actually cared about his well-being. Still, he was her patient, and it was protocol to ask._

 

_He pressed a few fingers to the side of his face, which was still slightly inflamed. “I could be better, but I could also be a lot worse,” then, he swallowed and forced the words out, “Thank you for getting rid of him.  Gabriel told me what happened.”  He twisted the sleeve of his jumpsuit between two fingers. “I think I needed that, though--some sense literally knocked into me, that is.  I think you’re right; maybe I do need help.  I don’t want to keep having that happen.”  ‘Keep it simple,’ he thought hastily to himself, ‘the best lies aways are.’_

 

_“Oh?” Naomi appeared pleasantly surprised, sitting up a little straighter; Sam had clearly sparked her interest. “Do tell me more, won’t you, Samuel? We have a chance to make some progress.” Notes at the ready, she waited for him to elaborate on how **she** had been right. _

 

_Sam chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, “Well, for the longest time, I thought that it couldn’t be wrong because I wasn’t hurting anyone.”  He grimaced in pain and touched the side of his face, “This made me realize that I was just hurting myself.”_

 

_"I'm glad you're starting to see things more clearly," Naomi said, quickly jotting down notes. She was beyond pleased. "Tell me, what do you plan to do about it?"_

 

_“Start listening, for one.” He said, staring at the arm of the couch.  “I guess I’m finally ready to listen.”_

 

+++++

 

_“So, this is supposed to help me?” He  stared at the TV, puzzled.  “How is watching a movie supposed to help me?”  Sam twisted in the seat, staring up at Naomi, who was rifling through some boxes in the back.  “Didn’t we already try this with the electro-shock aversion therapy last year?”  That had been a hellish week.  They’d sat him in front of gay porn and zapped him every time he’d gotten an erection.  All that had done was given him somewhat of a pain kink._

 

_"Your case is a very delicate one, Samuel; we are not taking any chances. You're open to change, now it's time to work on controlling your urges. Nobody changes over night... We've been over this more than once already." Naomi continued to sort through the boxes._

 

_He grunted and turned back around in his chair.  “What are you going to have me watch this time?  Will it be another documentary, like that one explaining chemicals, and hormones, and stuff?  I like the science based ones.”_

 

_Naomi chuckled grimly, obviously a bit uncomfortable. "It's just...another video necessary for your recovery." At last, she pulled out a VHS and carefully set it up in the player._

 

_“Are you going to stick around for this one?” he asked with idle curiosity, “you usually do, to… monitor my reactions, right?”  The way she was talking about it had him kind of worried._

 

_"I don't have much of a choice, I'm afraid," she replied softly. After pressing play, however, she retreated to the back of the room. Just because she had to observe Sam did not mean she had to observe the TV as well._

 

_The moment the picture cleared, Sam’s eyes widened, and he twisted in his seat to stare back at Naomi before turning his attention to the screen again.  The girls making out on the small screen were a complete turn off, and he was disgusted that the industry could produce homoerotic porn, yet he couldn’t even live his life in peace.  He could feel Naomi watching him, so, he closed his eyes and pictured Gabriel.  Still nothing.  “You know,” he raised his voice, “I don’t think anyone could get a stiffy with you boring holes into the back of their skull.  Exhibitionism is not a kink of mine.”_

 

_"I told you, it's procedure," Naomi practically hissed at him through her teeth, tapping her pen against her clipboard, "We're not here to chitchat about it, Samuel." It was beyond clear that, as the moments crawled by, Naomi was becoming debateably more uncomfortable than Sam, and that was saying something, given how much surveillance he was under._

 

_After twenty minutes of sitting there, flaccid and with no inclination of changing that, he spoke up again,  “Can’t you just watch from one of the cameras or something? This is seriously uncomfortable.”_

 

_"Someone has to be in the room to monitor you and act accordingly; it isn't up for discussion." Naomi wasn't budging, no matter how disturbed she felt._

 

_Sam rolled his eyes and settled deeper into his seat.  “I’ll just try to ignore you then,” he muttered and closed his eyes again.  He shut out the sounds from the video and imagined Gabriel on his knees, mouthing at his orange jumpsuit.  He shifted in the seat, very glad Naomi couldn’t see that his eyes were closed.  He imagined reaching out, pulling the smaller man up to him for a kiss, and a soft noise rolled past his lips._

 

_Naomi scribbled down a few notes, foot tapping anxiously. She was practically counting down the moments until she could finish this session._

 

_Sam registered the tapping only dimly, still intent on his fantasy.  He bit his bottom lip and, against his better instincts, pressed the heel of his hand into his erection.  With a breathy laugh, he slouched farther into the seat and stared full on into the face of unrequited love._

 

_After while, Naomi set her clipboard down and cleared her throat. She glanced at the clock, then at Sam. "I believe that is enough for today, Mr. Winchester." When she reached his name, her voice cracked slightly._

 

_Sam’s eyes popped open, and he straightened in his chair.  “Oh.  Right.  Good.  Okay.”  His voice was a little higher than normal.  “Right,” he repeated and willed the erection away best he could manage.  “So…” he trailed off, unsure of what was to happen next._

_"I'll send a guard in to escort you back to your cell."_

 

_As usual, Naomi refused to give him any actual feedback. However, she hadn't scolded or whacked him this time around, so, that was probably a good sign._

 

+++++

 

_“All right, Samuel, over the last few months, you’ve shown significant progress--more than I originally thought you capable of, I’m not going to lie,” Naomi looked up at Sam, her eyebrows raised to compliment her usual smug expression, “however, you’re not cleared just yet. From the women’s ward, there is a young lady who previously suffered from your same illness, and she has recently decided to change her ways just as you have. I would very much like you to meet her. Her name is Sarah.”_

 

_Sam put on his most winning smile for the woman before him.  “It’s good to meet you. I wish it had been under better circumstances, but such is life.”  He reached for her hand, gently.  “What would you like from us, Naomi?” He was careful to watch for any sign of discomfort or unhappiness from Sarah.  He wanted to prove he was well enough to get out, but he wasn’t about to force himself on anyone to do it._

 

_“Oh, just act like I’m not here, as usual. I simply need to report on interaction and such, oh and the reaction following physical contact, as well as a kiss.” Naomi spoke casually--well, as casually as she was capable of--stepping back to give the two space._

 

_Sarah looked nervous, but not particularly bothered, and she smiled at Sam with remarkable pleasantness. “Hello, it’s good to meet you as well. There’s been much talk of what you did about the guards; even in the women’s ward, you have admirers.”_

 

_Sam bit his bottom lip and huffed out an embarrassed laugh.  “I didn’t want to get beaten anymore.  I just…” he trailed off, “I just wanted to start doing what was expected of me.  Muriel didn’t want to see that though, I guess.”  He stepped a little closer and laced their fingers together.  “Are you okay with this?  We’ll go as slow or as fast as you want, Sarah.  I don’t want to push you, okay?”_

 

_“You’re not pushing me, not at all,” she gave a soft laugh, glancing down at their hands, before leaning in to whisper, “I want out of here every bit as you do. I’m ready to live again.” Her eyes caught his gaze, anxious yet, at the same time, reassuring, trusting, even._

 

_Sam’s guts churned, but he put a smile on for her, this admittedly beautiful woman.  If his bluff helped her get out, helped them both get out… well, he’d do it.  He pulled her close to him and tilted her face up with his other hand.  He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, waiting for her okay._

 

_Sarah gave a slight nod, her cheeks tinted pink as her face came within inches of his face, so close, the warm exchange of breath could be felt. She was charmed and, while she didn’t expect anything to happen afterward, she could not hide that much; her eyes told all._

 

_He dipped his head down, feeling her smooth lips against his own, imagining that this was Gabriel here, Gabriel kissing him. He moved in close to her, pressing his body flush against that of the woman.  She was warm and soft in all the wrong places, but he opened her lips with his tongue and twined it with hers, pouring in the passion he felt for that short, adorable guard._

 

_Sarah response was passionate, yet slightly inexperienced, her own lips mashing against his lips, parting without tension. It was about as natural as a kiss could get given the circumstances, and she had melted right into it._

 

_Naomi watched with a far amount of surprise, scribbling away at her paperwork. This was a breakthrough if she had ever seen one; she hadn’t believed Sam at first, but now, she was completely incapable of calling his bluff. And what a convincing bluff it was--his best act, according to Gabriel._

 

_+++++_

 

_Sam gripped the handle of the brush tight in his hands.  Since he’d been 'on the mend,' they let him work and supervise one of the newbies in cleaning and janitorial work. “I hate cleaning these damn things,” he muttered, “they don’t get the grime off like they’re supposed to.  Sponges and some strong rubber gloves would have been perfect for this.”  He inspected the toilet bowl with a critical eye before flinging the brush down, “I guess that one is as good as done.  How are you holding up over there?”_

 

_The rookie he'd been assigned to was a quiet man, with broad shoulders and big arms. Quite a bit older than Sam, though not taller, he always had a fair amount of scruff along his jaw, which probably would have been a well-kept beard, had he been given the resources._

 

_When Sam glanced in his direction, he looked up and grunted, "Not gettin' much cleaner," before heading over._

 

_“Great,” Sam stood and stretched.  The faint pops of his back reminded him of packing peanuts, and he laughed, “I feel like I’m getting too old for this shit, man.  Leaning over, crouching, cleaning.  Glad I’m getting out of here soon, so I can get back to law school and a comfortable desk job.”_

 

_In response, the other prisoner gave a gruff laugh, wiping his hands on his pants and straightening up. "We done here, then? I've had about enough of these tedious chores."_

 

_“You think **you’ve** had enough?” Sam snorted and shook his head, “I’ve been stuck in this place for three years.  It took a beating to finally get my head in the game.  Not,” he held a hand up, “that I’d advise that method for anyone looking to be free from this hell hole. But, I’m a stubborn sonuvabitch, so it took something extra.” _

 

_Another laugh. "I can be pretty damn stubborn m'self." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, eying Sam with a look that the taller man could not quite label--it verged on distrust, but was confused by something else._

 

_“I don’t advise it,” Sam warned,  “Electroshock therapy, beatings, brainwashing--things can get pretty bad here.  It's best if you just listen to them, and do what they want.  I held out for three years because I’m an **idiot**.  Don’t be like me.” _

 

_"I've never been so great at listenin' either, 'm afraid."_

 

_Without warning, he took hold of Sam's forearm and jerked him against the wall, pressing his other hand to the taller man's shoulder._

 

_Sam, naturally, fought back.  He tried to yank his arm from the other man’s grasp, painfully aware of all the cameras on them.  “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but get the fuck off of me.”  He brought his knee up in a sharp jab, intent on driving it into the man’s stomach._

 

_The other prisoner held him against the wall with surprising strength, taking the blow to the stomach like it was nothing. The guards must have had a lot of trouble with this one._

 

_"You're not really cured, Winchester, not anymore than I am. I can see the struggle in your eyes." His own eyes flashed dangerously, and he leaned in, pressing their lips together._

 

_Sam struggled in his grasp and attempted to mutter around the chapped lips that were pressing so intently against his own, “Maybe not, but they can **see** us, and I’m not throwing my freedom away for this!” He tried to drop out of the man’s grip, twisting his head to the side to avoid being kissed further.  _

 

_“Goddammit, don’t **ruin** this for me!”_

 

_"Do you think I'm an idiot?" He laughed, pressing a sloppy kiss to Sam's jaw. "I checked the cameras; this is a blind spot. Now, come on, let me help you make up for all that time you spent gettin' clean."_

 

_Sam twisted in his grip again before he sagged in defeat, “Are you sure?” he whispered, because, forced or not, it had been far too fucking long.  He turned his head back to meet the man’s lips for a kiss, and asked again, “Are you fucking sure?  Because if you’re not, Ga- someone is going to be very disappointed in me.”_

 

_"Mm, 'm positive," he slurred, stealing another kiss, his tongue tracing Sam's lips hungrily._

 

_Sam whimpered.  He wanted this, no doubt.  But something niggled in the back of his mind.  He’d spent years trying to find the blind spots on his own, and this new guy claims to have found one?  He didn’t trust it, but the arousal pooling in his belly, as well as the sharp throbbing between his legs, overruled his common sense, and he tilted his head to meet that of the other man in a fierce kiss._

 

_That’s when all hell broke loose._

 

_Before he could even register what was happening, the big man had been torn from him, leaving his shame plain for everyone to see.  Three guards were on the guy, holding a stun gun to his side while Uriel smirked at him from the doorway._

 

_“Gotcha.”_

  
_Sam thumped his head against the tiled wall and cursed every deity ever created that he’d let his dick do the thinking.  It didn’t take long to have him cuffed and shoved along corridor after corridor, until they dumped him in solitary with nothing to do but wait in the dark._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi and Gabriel speak to Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: TALK OF SUICIDE IN THIS CHAPTER.   
> This one is short, and I'm so so sorry. Getting ready for the move pushed everything to the back burner. Never fear though, there is more to come.

When the heavy cell door finally creaked open, it was none other than Naomi who walked in, her gaze cold as ever.

 

"So, here we are again, Samuel; what a shame it is, too, I was very close to clearing you for release. Shall we talk?"

 

“Would you accept that it was an accident?  I backslid?”  He didn’t move from his spot on the floor; his face was in his hands.  “Would you believe me if I told you I _really_ regret what happened, and it makes me feel bad?”  

 

"Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Winchester? I know exactly what was going. You had us all convinced with your act, but, obviously, nothing has changed. That is not up for discussion. No, what I am here to talk about is what we are going to do about it." Naomi watched him, unblinking, completely unmoved. Any softness she had developed for him was long gone.

 

“No, really,”  Sam looked up from his hands,  “I really fucking regret what happened.  Can we just forget about it and move on?  Moment of weakness.  Give me a pretty girl, and it won’t happen again.”  His voice sounded flat, even to his own ears, and, when he was done speaking, he leaned forward to cradle his face again.  

 

"I doubt that will fix anything, not after your deceptions. And, even if you really did backslide, we don't want word to spread, do we now?" She sighed heavily, pacing around the cell. "No, of course not. That's why I've been speaking with a college for the last few hours, trying to decide what to do. We both agreed that'd it'd be best to do something I should have done long ago..." She paused a moment, perhaps because she simply liked to watch him squirm.

 

"That's why I've scheduled you for correctional surgery tomorrow morning. I believe it is in everyone's best interest, especially your own."

 

“W-what?”  Sam looked up from his hands again with a look of puzzled curiosity.  “C-corrective?  How does that even wo--” the look morphed into one of horror as his mouth fell opened, and his eyes widened, “You are _not_ going to let _Crowley_ play with my brain.  No.  I refuse.  Kill me first.  I don’t want that quack anywhere _near_ my head.”

 

Naomi laughed, a sharp, shrill sound. "Kill you? My dear boy, don't be ridiculous, that won't solve anything. Besides, it's already set. I filed the paperwork under ‘immediate attention needed,’ and it's received approval as of a few minutes ago."

 

Sam lunged to his feet and backed into the corner, wild-eyed and terrified.  “No,” he repeated,  “I’m not gonna let you.”  He clenched his teeth, and his nostrils flared almost animalistically.  “Th-This...This is **_not_** going to happen.  No one is going to poke around in my head.  You can’t!   ** _Gabriel_** won’t let you!”

Despite Sam’s reaction, Naomi remained scarily calm, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “You think Gabriel is going to protest on your behalf? Samuel, he only wants what is best for you, just as I do. Besides, he _is_ your supervisor; I could not have processed the paperwork without his signature.” She shook her head. “As I said, this is for your own good, and Officer Milton...well, he’s on my side.”

 

Sam shook his head from side to side and almost brained himself on the wall.  “No,” he said again,  “you’re lying.  He would never agree to something like this, not for anyone.  Prove it to me.  Prove to me he agrees with you.”  

 

"I figured you'd react like this, so, I did you the favor of bringing a copy of the paperwork." Naomi held a packet out to him, flipping to a later page, and motioning to the signatures across the bottom.

 

Sam’s stomach dropped at the signature gracing the bottom of the page, and he shook his head.  “I thought he was different,” he muttered,  “I thought he wouldn’t…” he trailed off and sank to the ground, refusing speak again.

 

"Don't fret, Mr. Winchester, things will get much better for you soon. You'll see." Naomi tucked the packet away and headed for the door. "Try to get some sleep, you have a long day ahead of you."

 

Sam didn’t respond.  He yanked the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. It took hours for him to finally fall into a restless sleep, curled up in the corner, awaiting his fate.

 

*****

 

The next morning, Gabriel arrived at work bright and early. Had he not been in such dire need of groceries, he wouldn't have taken his usual day off the day before. Truth be told, he was worried about Sam more than he was disappointed, given what had happened over the last few days. Naomi hadn't given him any insight into the action they were going to take, either, though he knew it couldn't be good. He planned to talk to her later. For now, he was heading to solitary to check on Sam.

 

Sam was still huddled up in the corner of the cell.  He’d taken the sheet from his bed and ripped it into strips, then proceeded to tie those strips together, creating a make-shift rope.  When Gabriel arrived, he was staring, first at the ‘rope,’ and then up at the top horizontal bar of the door, muttering to himself about length, and height, and whether the sheet would be strong enough.  For what, he never said loud enough, but Gabriel had seen enough in his time to know what this was.

 

“Sam, what the hell are you doing?” The guard leaned against the wall, watching him with a troubled frown. “And no, to answer your question, the sheet won’t hold, neither will the knots. Come on.”

 

Sam didn’t even glance up from what he was doing.  “Fuck off.  Don’t pretend to care after the shit you just pulled.” His voice cracked and warbled with some undefinable emotion.

 

“Oh, the shit _I_ pulled? If I remember correctly, you were the one who got yourself into this mess. Now, seriously, put that down.” Scowling, Gabriel moved towards Sam, prepared to take the make-shift rope from him, if it came to that.

 

The laugh that came bubbling out of Sam’s throat was hollow and mirthless.  “Yeah.  You’re right.  I fucked up because that asshole pinned me to a wall.  But you know what?  This,” he held the rope up, “is a better alternative than having _Crowley_ rooting around in my grapefruit, so you’ll have to excuse me for taking the easy way out.” When Gabriel moved, Sam stood up and held the rope out like a weapon, “Take my last choice from me and, I swear to God…” he trailed off, eying Gabriel like a wounded animal.  

 

Gabriel shook his head, his frown only deepening. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but, what I do know is that this,” he made a grab for the rope, “this is not the way you want to go out. Don’t be stupid.”

 

“Fuck.  You.”  Sam flinched backwards.  “You know damn well what I’m talking about.  You signed the goddamn papers!” His voice got very quiet then, the realization hitting him all over again, “Naomi showed me the paperwork.  You approved the fucking surgery, so don’t you _lie_ to me and tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, or that you’ve always been on my side, or any of that other bullshit you’ve been feeding me.”

 

“Surgery? What..I didn’t sign _anything_!” Gabriel was utterly appalled and even more confused, “Sam, you know me better than that. Why would I agree to let anyone fuck with your head?”

 

“Don’t you _dare_ lie to me, not again, Officer Milton.” Sam shook his head and backed into the corner once more.  “It’s scheduled for this morning, so just…leave me the fuck alone. You owe me that much.”  

 

Taken aback, Gabriel did not respond to Sam. Instead, he was trying to wrap his mind around the situation and, more importantly, what he was going to do about it. His thoughts all led him to one destination: Naomi. She had, one way or another, authorized this behind his back; if there was any chance of stopping it, it lay with her.

 

So, becoming more and more infuriated with each passing moment, Gabriel left the cell and headed for Naomi’s office.

 

As if they had been lying in wait until Gabriel took his leave, Uriel and another large, burly guard make their way towards the cell but a moment later. Uriel stepped in first and sneered at the pitiful prisoner in the corner, who had once caused him such trouble.

  
“Time to go, Winchester.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, guys! I just moved across the country and I'm having some issues getting internet set up, so it's very very hard to get somewhere where I can type and work on it. We're still writing when we can, but give us two weeks between chapters before you start howling for blood, plx.  
> \-----  
> With Love from Shadow  
> (and then here comes a hurty chapter. I really am sorry for this)

“Would you like to explain to me what the hell is going on?!”

 

Naomi was sitting at her desk, sorting through papers as usual, when Gabriel came storming through the door. Rarely did he let his temper get the better of him--especially on the job, which had tested his patience on many an occasion--but, currently, he was so worked up, the guard’s face was turning red.

 

At first, Naomi had the nerve to ignore his presence completely, scribbling something down on the packet in front of her. Gabriel, on the hand, would have none of it, not today. He proceeded to slam his hands down on her desk, sending several piles of papers toppling down.

 

Naomi looked coolly up from her papers and and sniffed.  “What seems to be your problem today, Officer Milton?”  She didn’t bother going after the scattered papers; instead she sat tall and straight in her chair, meeting his eyes with her own.

 

“Oh, I think you know exactly what my problem is! How is it you failed to inform me that Sam Winchester--who is, if I recall correctly, still under _my_ care--is going into surgery this morning?” His eyes burned, golden orbs of pure abhorrence. “My word is the deciding factor, and you put it right past me! How **_dare_** you!”

 

“Officer Milton!” She stood up from her chair, “You have _always_ expressed an interest in getting this inmate healthy and cleared.  I was only doing what I thought was _necessary_ to cure him and get him out of here.” She lifted her chin. “I did what was necessary.  Can you say the same?  Can you honestly tell me that he hasn’t _tempted_ you?  Or should we call internal affairs?  I’ll probably be reprimanded for forging your signature, but, can you honestly say they won’t find anything… _off_ about your behavior?” She raised her eyebrows and smirked.

 

Gabriel didn’t so much as flinch. “And you’re telling me that, after months of undergoing treatment _willingly_ , one slip up gives you probable cause to slice open his head? There are plenty of other available options, many of which you shared with me, might I add; you just skipped to surgery because it’s quick, and you don’t have to do the dirty work. You’re embarrassed that he backslid under your care and, this way, should he do it again, it is not on you.” He scoffed, shaking his head, the side of his lip pulling up in a sickened half-smile. “That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? You don’t want to deal with him anymore, so it’s easier to stick him under the knife. Not only that, but you forged my signature because you knew--you fucking _knew_ \--I would never consent to this...this cowardly remedy!”

 

“It’s the only way, and you _know_ it!” Her voice rose,  “He was faking it the whole time.” She was on the verge of losing her composure.  “I only took the action that _you_ were too cowardly to take.  His transformation was too good to be true.  I…” she sighed, “Gabriel, I had to do _something_.  The boss wanted to see results, and we weren’t giving him any.”  She shook her head, “He insisted I do something about this immediately.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, before finally uttering a soft,  “what do you suggest I do?”

 

The guard watched Naomi, his stance slacking a little as he saw her surrender her absolute control; the tension in the room lessened considerably, a direct result. Maybe they could have a discussion as civilized adults after all.

 

“Listen, that new treatment you showed me months ago, it came right from the top, didn’t it? I doubt you would get reprimanded if you decided to use that instead; it was their idea, how could they turn it down?” As he spoke, Gabriel’s volume level gradually returned to normal, his curled fingers flattening against the wooden top of Naomi’s desk. His look of mistrust remained, but that was not out of the ordinary, even in their ‘casual’ discussions.

 

Needless to say, the treatment Gabriel was suggesting included experimental drugs and foreign techniques, and, although he did not like it, not even a little, it was still better than allowing Crowley to--as Sam put it--root around in anyone’s grapefruit.

 

Naomi pinched her lips together and nodded.  “Fine.  I’ll see what I can do.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Hurry down to the surgery suite then.  They’ll have him almost ready by the time you get there.”  She sank wearily into her chair and rested her forehead against her palm.

 

Nodding, Gabriel breathed a quick, “Thank you,” and ducked out of the office, sprinting down the hall. Rumors traveled around the facility faster than procedural changes did; even if Naomi had called the hospital wing, it was likely nobody would pick up until _after_ the surgery was already completed. Rushing over was his best chance.

 

*****

 

Sam was screaming and thrashing on the narrow hospital bed, making it nearly impossible for them to give him an injection.  There was little he could do _but_ struggle, and he wasn’t going to let them take him without a fight.  

 

"Oh, for the love of god, hold him still! Strap him down if you need to!" Crowley stood at the foot of the bed, watching the two guards struggle to hold the patient down. "I have a schedule to keep, and we are already running late!"

 

After getting hit in the face for the fourth or fifth time, Uriel was beginning to get impatient. Still trying to get a grip on Sam's wrist with one hand, he retrieved his taser with the other, jabbing it into the brunette's side.

 

Sam jerked wildly as the pain of the electricity coursed through his body, and when the taser was removed, he panted and fell limp. “F… Fuck you!” He tried to move again, but his muscles wouldn’t respond, not right away, at least.

 

The guard on the other side of Sam, moving quite a bit slower than Uriel, tasered him seconds later, reitifying the small weapon's stunning quality.  

 

Crowley chuckled and seized the moment, advancing forward to take hold of Sam's shoulder. He pressed his palm down atop the patient's deltoid and separated his fingers so that the center of the arm was marked by the V shape they formed. "Keep still now, you wouldn't want to fuck yourself over any further." Carefully, he slipped the needle deep into the muscle of Sam's arm, keeping the syringe steady between the V as he emptied the substance within. When finished, he removed it and stepped back.

 

"Now, was that really so hard? You're quite the drama queen, Moose."

 

Sam tried to fight the effect of the drugs absorbing into his bloodstream, but he could feel his muscles going lax, and the urge to fight swept from his mind completely.  As his pupils dilated, the light stabbed at them, and he closed them with a groan.  “Hate you,” he mumbled.  

 

It was at that moment that Gabriel burst through the door, panting. Crowley turned, cocking a brow. "Can I help you, Gabriel?"

 

"Su-Surgery's been cancelled," he leaned up against the doorframe, glancing in Sam's direction, "I'm here to escort Sam back to his cell."

 

The patient in question heard Gabriel, but couldn’t quite understand what was going on.  He opened his eyes and lurched upwards before falling back flat and giggling breathlessly.  He closed his eyes again and clutched at the pillow.  “Gon’ nap now,” he slurred out, beginning to snore as the drugs finally took effect, and unconsciousness claimed him.

 

*****

 

Sam did not know how much time had passed before he clawed his way back to consciousness.  He groaned and rolled over on the bed, a blinding headache pulsing at the base of his skull.  He was dimly aware of a hand in his hair and the lack of certain aches that would indicate a surgery.  He reached up to touch his head and relaxed slightly when he did not feel any stitches or bandages.  He hadn’t been dreaming then, when he'd seen Gabriel burst into the room.  

 

"Hey, kiddo, how you doin'?" Gabriel was sitting on an upside down bucket beside Sam's cot, a weary smile across his face. "How's your head?" He drew his hand away from where it had been tangled in Sam's hair--an unorthodox move, he would admit, but it was the only way he'd been able to bring the other any sort of comfort, what, with all the whimpering and twitching he'd started doing only an hour earlier.

 

“Tired.”  Sam rolled over, away from him, “Hurts. What happened?”  

 

"Well, nothing, really." Gabriel sighed softly, pressing his thumbs together. "I spoke with Naomi and convinced her to cancel the surgery, simple as that. Your headache is probably just a side effect of the pre-meds."

 

Sam rolled back over to stare at Gabriel, pupils still blown wide from the medication.  “You did _what_?  But...she showed me the papers--papers _you_ signed.”  He struggled into a leaning position and shook his head.  “No.  I saw them.”  

 

"I already told you, I didn't sign anything." Gabriel leaned back, watching Sam, his expression unreadable.

 

Sam blinked at him and shook his head some more, desperately trying to clear the fog from his brain. "Does that mean she _forged_ them?  Can you get her fired for that?  Send her packing?  I don’t want her here anymore.”  Sam lurched forward, almost falling off the bed, before he righted himself and stared into Gabriel’s eyes.  

 

Gabriel gave a bitter laugh in response. "Yes, she forged my signature, but we also made an agreement; it was the only way to get you out from under the knife. I can't just go back and get her fired, it's not that simple." Truth be told, he found himself sympathizing with Naomi, as much as he disliked her. Of course, he wasn't about to admit that to Sam.

 

“What’d you do?” Sam tilted his head to the side, still boring into the guard with his stare.  “What did you tell her?”  He reached a hand out and clutched at Gabriel’s sleeve.  “Tell me.  Please.  I need to know.”

 

"I just told her there were better methods, that's all." Gabriel tugged his arm back a little, but put up no real fight when Sam grabbed his sleeve. He met the prisoner's gaze.

 

“So there’s no way for me to try again.”  It wasn’t a question.  “There’s nothing you can do anymore?”

 

"She's...planning to put you on some experimental system. I don't know how effective it is, but I do know it's aim is to get you out." Gabriel bit his lip. "It's not hopeless, Sam."

 

“You keep saying that.”  Sam flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.  “I don’t think I even you believe it anymore.  Am I going to get out of here and still be me?  No.  I’m going to be manipulated into being someone else, and, in the end, it won’t matter, because they’ll have changed me so much that I’ll welcome it.”  His tone was dry, almost clinical.  

 

Gabriel felt a slight ping in his gut; although he tried not to acknowledge it, he knew Sam was absolutely right. He'd had a chance, and he'd blown it. Now, it was impossible to tell what the future would hold, but the chances of it being good were growing slimmer and slimmer. Sam had a certain...spark about him, one that Gabriel would hate to see wrung out of him. However, for the time being, there wasn't much he could do, apart from watch and wait.

 

"Hey, I did all I could do. You just...you gotta hold out a little longer than originally planned, that's all. You'll get out of here, and, knowing you, you'll find a way to live again. Chin up." His pep-talk was worthless, and he knew it; at the same time, what else was he supposed to do? If he didn't try to stay positive, who would? The world was a mess, and, if he looked too deeply into the reality of it, it would only drag him down. It would drag everyone down.

  
Sam made a noncommittal grunt before he spoke again.  “Just remember your promise.  No matter what happens; keep your promise.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam meets a curiously helpful woman named Ruby

Still in solitary three days later, Sam paced through the small room, stared at the ceiling, tapped out tunes on the bars. Gabriel had yet to return. An unknown guard brought him his food and took his old dishes away with no further contact.

He could only wait and wonder what they were planning.

On the fourth day, it was not some miscellaneous guard who brought Sam his food; instead, it was a woman of whom he’d never met before. She had dark hair and a gentle smile.

“Hello Sam, I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Sam frowned and looked away “Where’s Gabriel?” He knew it was rude, but he refused to be nice to anyone while locked up in this cage.

"My name is Ruby. Gabriel is dealing with other things." 

She set his food tray down on the edge of the cot and sat beside it, looking at Sam, as if expecting an introduction. 

Unsure of this woman and her objective, he looked between her and the food for a few tense moments before finally speaking, "What do you want from me? Are you my new," he made quotations in the air with his fingers, "'caseworker?' I've never seen you before." He was tired, and, at the very least, she was someone to talk to. He hesitated a moment longer and pulled the food tray over, waiting for her to say something. 

“Caseworker?” She chuckled softly, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Well, more or less. Really, I’m just here to help you, Sam. Anything you need from me, you need only ask. I realize that this place is, well, for lack of a better word, a shithole; I thought you might need a friend.” 

“You can’t blame me for being suspicious.” He took a quick bite of his mashed potatoes. “Look, four days ago, they were getting ready to mess with my brain--surgery. The only reason I’m not a vegetable right now is because Gabriel stopped it.” He took another few small bites. “There’s no such things as friends down here, not even among us inmates.” 

“Yeah, well, there’s no such thing as friends as long as you have that attitude.” Ruby watched him calmly, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “I’m serious though, Sam; I’m not here to mess with your head, so to speak. I’m here for you, for whatever you might need. I know you don’t trust me yet, but you will, I promise you that.” 

He eyeballed her with distrust. “All right,” he chewed thoughtfully on a green bean, “I want a shower. I want a clean jumpsuit. I want some paper and a pencil, and I want to write a letter to my brother.” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Can you do that?” 

Ruby only smiled, giving him a small nod. “Of course I can.” She stood up then, arms folded across her chest. “I’ll return shortly to collect your tray, and grant your requests. In the mean time, sit tight.” 

Sam nodded and fell to his meal with gusto. When he finished, he leaned back on the cot and stared at the ceiling. “Probably part of the new treatment,” he muttered, “butter me up and bribe me or something.” 

No sooner had he spoken, when Ruby returned, a jumpsuit, dulled pencil, and a few sheets of paper in hand. “Here you are, as promised. As far as the shower goes, a slot should be opening up in a little while; they’re going to give me a call.” 

He blinked at her in surprise, but took the paper and the pencil. “Thanks,” he tried for flat and unemotional, but a bit of the surprise leaked into his voice, "how much trouble did they give you?” And he almost hit himself at the small tendril of worry that gnawed at him. All this time and you still worry about everyone but yourself, dumbass. 

"Not as much as you might think, I assure you. Trust me, Sam, I've got things under control." Ruby leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. 

“I… great. That’s great.” he sat there, at a loss for words. “Uh, so…” he fiddled with the pencil, “what exactly did they tell you about me, and who is 'they' anyway?” 

"They didn't tell me much, persay--I mean, they gave me your case file, told me you were trouble, and said you might need a little extra help." She laughed. "I have to say, many of your 'feats' over the years are extremely brilliant. Tricking one of your guards into doing your chores? Hysterical!"

Sam’s lips twitched in a half smile at the memory. “To be fair, he was an idiot. If he’d been smarter he would have realized that I was only pretending to be stupid. Did they tell you what happened with it?” 

“Of course they didn’t; do tell.” Ruby’s eyes flickered with what appeared to be genuine interest, which wasn’t exactly something Sam was given often, not from anyone apart from Gabriel. It was kind of refreshing, to say the least. 

Sam leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Asshole decided that he was going to take a swing at trying to ‘cure’ me with his fist and ended up knocking me in the head. It didn’t hurt,” he opened his eyes to gauge her reaction, “but I put on a show of being woozy and confused.” He laughed, “He started panicking because, at the time, I wasn’t supposed to be touched. So, I acted confused on how to do the cleaning, and I started messing up the folding of the laundry, so,” he shrugged, “in his panic, he started doing everything, leaving me sitting on the floor trying to not laugh. Naomi, of course, saw the whole thing on the cameras, addressed him down in front of everyone, and assigned Gabriel to me.” 

“And he’s been assigned to you ever since, if I’m not mistaken.” She nodded her head, as if to confirm her words for herself. “Obviously that means, a, he’s not as stupid as some of the other candidates, or, b, you’re actually, dare I say it, fond of him. That right, Sam?” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s definitely smart. And he’s been kind to me, which is more than I can say for most of the people in this dump. If, by fondness, you’re implying that I’d choose to see him over Uriel, then yes.”

“I think I’d choose just about anyone over Uriel, between you and me. He seems to be in an increasingly bad mood every time we meet.” Ruby shrugged her shoulders, making a face to emphasis her distaste for the guard. “Gabriel, however, I’ve only met once or twice. He seems pleasant enough, but. . .” she clicked her tongue, searching for the right word, “distracted.” 

Sam tried to resist, but ended up taking the bait anyway, “Distracted? What do you mean by that?” 

“He’s just very spacey or...well, perhaps thoughtful would be a kinder choice. The few times we met, his mind was obviously elsewhere, and, when I’ve passed him in the halls, he’s fairly unresponsive…” Ruby released some air from the side of her mouth, “I dunno, Sam, you tell me. Does he strike you as preoccupied? Maybe he just dislikes me.” She laughed.

Sam shrugged, lips thinned and muscles tensed, like a deer about to take off, “I don’t really know. He was always attentive and kind. He may have been a little lax around me, but that’s because we’ve played this song and dance too many times before. He knows what I might try, and I know what to expect if I try anything.” His lips twisted in a bitter smile, “It's a working relationship. We’ve perfected it over the last two years.” 

"Oh, I see, I see; so you're a biased source." Ruby chuckled a little, actually rather amused by Sam's description. "Well, in any case, I do hope our relationship will be every bit as...successful, if that is the appropriate word." 

Sam shrugged again. “He’s a good man; biased is hardly the word. This place usually suffocates anything good.” Then, he snorted. “I’m hoping that I won’t be here long enough for it to get to the same point,” he admitted. “I want out of here.” 

"I'm going to help you get out of here, Sam, I promise." Ruby gave him that same warm smile from before. "Nobody deserves to get out of here as much as you."


	12. Chapter 12

Life had gotten better for Sam since Ruby entered his life.  Meals were no longer cold, he was no longer accosted by guards in the hallways, and he always managed to get to the showers before the hot water ran out.  As things continued to improve, his suspicions about Ruby faded to a nagging murmur in the back of his mind.

 

The only problem?  Sam hardly ever saw Gabriel anymore.

 

“Hey, Ruby?”  Sam set down Of Mice and Men, the latest book she’d fetched him from the prison library, “What’s Gabriel been up to lately?  Is there any way you could snag him from whatever he’s doing to come see me for a minute?”  

 

Ruby, who had been sitting at the edge of Sam’s bed, hesitated a moment before standing up. “I suppose I could give it a try, however, his availability is out of my hands.” She rubbed her hands together and waited, as if expecting Sam to change his mind. When he said nothing, she headed for the cell door. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Sam picked his book back up, strangely nervous and hopeful that Gabriel had some free time.  He tried to start reading again, but, after reading the same line about six or seven times, he set the book back down and started to pace around the small cell.

 

After about fifteen minutes, Ruby returned, alone. “Hey, Sam…” she gave him a weak smile, reentering the cell, “I found him, but, regrettably, he’s taking care of some other prisoners. He told me he would’ve come if he had a back up, but he doesn’t at the moment.” She shrugged her shoulders.

 

Sam’s heart sank and, although he kept from making a face, his disappointment was made known by his sagging shoulders.  “Yeah, no.  That’s all right.  I’m sure they’ve put him to work since he doesn’t have to babysit me anymore,” the words came out bitter.  His thinned his lips and swallowed hard, “Look, can you try and do me another favor?”

 

“What might that be?” She watched him curiously, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear.

 

“I want to head up to the yard,” he replied, picking up his book,  “right now, while there is no one else out there.  I want a chance to read in the sunlight.” He gave her an easy grin, “You can even have Uriel watch me if you want.  I’m not dumb enough to try an escape over three fences topped with barbed wire.”  

 

“That won’t be necessary Sam, I am completely capable of watching you; besides, I know you are far from stupid.” Ruby chuckled. “Let’s start heading up. If anyone questions us, I’ll talk to them; no worries.”

 

“Great!” Sam stretched his arms upwards and followed close behind her, hoping naively that, maybe, just maybe, they might run into Gabriel on the way out.  

 

Naturally, their trip to the courtyard was significantly uneventful; not one guard stopped them, much less Gabriel.

 

“Here we are.” Ruby smiled at Sam, squinting a little in the invading sunlight.

 

Sam raised his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes and immediately headed over to the fence, where he settled his back against it, beginning to read again.  After a few moments, he lifted his eyes from his book to stare at Ruby.  “Have you read this one?”

 

"Hm?" She glanced at him, blinking in slight surprise. Needless to say, she had brought him so many books, she was unsure what he was reading this time around. "What book is it? Of Mice and Men?" After a moment, Ruby nodded, giving Sam a small smile. "Yes, of course I've read it; it's a classic."

 

Sam hummed quietly and went back a page.  “What do you think about what happens to Lennie, about how he was treated?”  

 

"Well," Ruby wrinkled her nose, her eyes thoughtful, "I mean, it's hard to say. What do you think of it all, Sam? I'm sure you're much more articulate than I."

 

Sam frowned.  “It’s… very sad,” he said slowly, “Lennie was shot from behind by his best friend in the world, betrayed by the man he trusted.   He was different: disabled.  The deaths he caused were all on accident, and, in today’s world, he could have gotten the help that he needed, but back then?” He shook his head.  “It's just sad.  George should have had the balls to face Lennie like a man, but instead, he hid like a coward.”  He grunted, “I feel pity for Lennie and the situation he was in.”

 

"It was no easy decision, Sam," Ruby replied, her eyes remaining soft, "I agree with you, it is all very sad. But, if you look at the presentation, it's clear that George acted out of love. He reassured Lennie, then shot him in the back of the head; it sounds cruel, but, had he really not cared, he could have just shot him in the face." She sighed softly, "You're right, it isn't like it would have been today; there would have been no hope or help for Lennie had he survived. He would have had to face his crimes like any other. George's act was that of mercy, not of cowardice or contempt."

 

Sam frowned, pinching his eyebrows together.  “I… hadn’t thought of it like that.  I guess, with someone who was aware of their wrongs, it would be better to tell them, to be honest.  Maybe with Lennie… you’re probably right.  Best to keep him as innocent and unknowing as possible. Innocence like that should be protected and cherished."

 

"That's exactly what I think," Ruby placed a hand on his shoulder, "and it's a real shame, so much innocence has been lost in the world of today."

 

Sam stared at her for a long moment before he blurted, “Why do you work here?”

 

"I want to help people," she replied smoothly, smiling a little, "like you, Sam. I'm here for you."

 

Sam leaned his head against the fence and closed his eyes against the sun, “And do you feel that there are some people who can’t be helped?  Or are you one of those that thinks we’re all just a few sessions away from freedom?”

 

"I know there are some people past help, Sam. I'm not an optimist--I'm not that happy, not that foolish. No, I'm a realist; people don't just change, not unless they want to. It isn't up to anyone else." She sat back, tapping her thumbs together.

 

Sam grunted and turned back to his book.  “Do you think you could get me Robinson Crusoe after I’m done with this one?”

 

"Of course I can, if that's what you want." Ruby replied immediately.

 

Sam grunted again, keeping his reaction and his comments to himself.  “Thanks,” he said instead, “I appreciate it.” He fell silent, devouring the last few pages of the book before he sighed.

 

 “Can you get me a visitor, too?”

 

"A visitor? That's a big request, Sam." Still, she leaned in and smiled slightly, "who did you have in mind? As always, I'll see what I can do."

 

He bit his lip and looked away. "My brother. I want to see Dean. I've been sending him letters, but it's been so long... I just want to see him again."

 

"I'll try to arrange for it, okay? But baby steps; I'll go get you Robinson Crusoe first." She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You're almost done with that one, aren't you?"

 

He wagged the book at her, "Finished." His lips turned up in a small smile. "I might start asking for more exotic book selections next time. The classics are starting to wear a little thin."

 

"Classics don't wear thin, that's why they're classics!" Ruby laughed, taking the book from him and standing. "Robinson Crusoe, your brother--any other requests?"

 

“Another shower?” he said hopefully, “I could get used to these daily things.” He hummed thoughtfully, “And a haircut?  I like it long, but even this is getting ridiculous.”

 

"Of course, your majesty." She picked up her radio and made a call, trying to see if there were any off-duty guards that could take her place. "Unfortunately, I can't leave you here all alone, even if I do trust you."

 

“See if Gabriel’s available.  You know all the other guards hate me,” he settled back against the fence and closed his eyes again,  “he’s the only one I trust to not beat the shit out of me.”

 

"Nobody is going to 'beat the shit out of you,' Sam. If they do, they'll have me to answer to and, trust me, I'm not as feeble as I might look." She paused, tapping a finger against her radio. "I'll try to get Gabriel, though."

 

Sam beamed a smile her way,  “Thanks.”

 

"I'll be right back," Ruby gave him a nod, "you behave." She stepped back inside. A few moments later, Uriel, of all people, took her place, looking grumpy as ever.

 

Sam eyed the big man suspiciously, “How much is she paying you to keep your fists offa me?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

"Just keep your mouth shut, and we'll be fine, Winchester." Uriel grunted, arms crossed. As far as both of them were concerned, Ruby's return could not come soon enough.

 

“Oh, come on.” Sam twisted to lay on his back, in the grass, “I haven’t done anything to you since the day we met.  Why don’t you cut me some slack?”

 

"Because you're difficult, and you disgust me." Uriel hissed, avoiding eye contact. He kept glancing at the door.

 

“Be honest,” Sam hummed from the warmth, “How difficult have I been lately, barring that unfortunate incident in the bathroom.” He frowned, “Whatever happened to him anyway?”  

 

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it." Uriel replied accordingly, just as Sam had expected him to. It didn't matter much, for Ruby made her reappearance shortly after, book in hand.

 

"One copy left, you're in luck." She waved it cheerfully.

 

Sam opened his eyes and sighed. “Does that mean I have to go back to my room, mom?” he asked with a hint of a sneer, but mostly good humor.

 

"Hmm, well, it looks like you've been a good boy, so I'll give you a few more minutes." She handed Sam the book. "Thank you, Uriel, you're free to go."

 

Sam took it from her with a nod, “Thanks.  I really appreciate this.”  He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes, “Can you tell me what happened to the man who cornered me in the bathroom?”

 

"Man who...oh, Mister Lafitte? He transferred facilities, if I am not mistaken." Ruby wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Yes, he's in another district now. Why do you ask?"

 

Sam shrugged, “He was a creep, and I wanted to be sure they did something about it.  I was almost home, and he fucking shoves me against a wall, and ruins it.”  He was still bitter about that.  “I even kneed him in the gut to get him off, but he laughed it off like it was nothing.”

 

"For that, I am sincerely sorry, Sam." Ruby's eyes expressed the utmost sympathy for Sam's situation; she conveniently, for the sake of not agitating him, left out that she believed he, too, was at fault, more or less. "But your efforts will not have been in vain. You'll get home yet, maybe even some place better."

 

“A place better?”  He wrinkled his forehead and stared, “What do you mean by that?  How could any place be better than home?”  

  
"I only mean that, once you're out of here, you're free to do whatever you like with your life--build a career for yourself, find a place to call home that's better than what you have to return to." Ruby nodded her head, as if contemplating her own options. "The world will be yours for the taking, Sam."

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Sam gets a visitor

Sam paced in front of the bars of his cell.  A week had passed, and he’d devoured four more books while waiting for the approval to talk to Dean. It had come in just a few hours ago; they were driving Dean to see him that morning.  He stopped pacing and took a deep breath, before resuming his path on the floor.

 

Minutes ticked by like hours, and, at this rate, it felt like Dean was never going to arrive, and one of the guards was just going to come in with some lame excuse as to why everything had fallen through.

 

Then, at last, there was a knock at the door.

 

Sam nervously straightened his jumpsuit.  He was distinctly aware of the fact that he hadn’t showered today, but dismissed the thought.  Dean wouldn’t care, so he didn’t care.  He was finally going to get to see his brother.  He shuffled nervously from foot to foot, “Yeah,” he said, feeling stupid about it, “Come on in,” like he had a choice, regardless of who it was.

 

The door opened, and Dean followed in after a guard Sam did not recognize. He wore their father's old leather jacket and, other than few excess wrinkles that had come with age, he looked no different from how Sam remembered him.

 

Upon meeting his younger brother's gaze, the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

 

"H-Hey there, Sammy. Looks like...you've gotten taller."

 

Sam didn’t even hesitate after Dean finished speaking.  He reached out and pulled his brother into a hug, laughing breathily, “What did I tell you about calling me Sammy?  That’s the name of a chubby twelve year old, and I’m not chubby or twelve anymore.”

 

“Shut up,” Dean returned the embrace immediately, holding his brother with increasing desperation, “you’ll always be Sammy, no matter how damn tall you get!” He sucked in a breath, heart pounding in his ears. “God, I’ve missed you.”

 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, man.” Sam pulled back a little.  “How have you been? I know I’ve asked in letters, but…” he trailed off, overwhelmed.

 

Dean nodded, pulling back as well, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. “I-I been okay, hanging in there, you know. But you...how have you been holding up? They don’t give us any updates outside of your letters.”

 

Sam took a deep breath and sighed, “Dude,” he chuckled, “It has been an absolute hell in here.  What was in the last letter I sent out? It’s been so… crazy in the last… few months, I can’t even remember what all I told you and what I didn’t.”

 

“I believe it had something to do with. . .” Dean tapped his chin thoughtfully, trying to remember, “well, you were complaining about that therapist chick. Nadia, wait, no, Naomi, was it?” He chuckled. “It’s definitely been a while since the last letter, that why I was especially surprised to get a call from this place.”

 

Sam felt a little faint at that.  “Okay.  Wow.  Right.  Well, I got the snot beat out of me on Gabriel’s day off.  Said something wrong, you know the drill, right?  I ended up in the infirmary with a concussion and the realization that if I didn’t want that to happen to me again, maybe I should put some effort into my treatment.” He mouthed the words he knew the guard would be taking back, but his gaze shifted all over the place, and he prayed Dean could still tell when he was lying.  “So, we started treatment, and I was getting better.  I was almost out of here, Dean.” He clenched his teeth.  “Some asshole made a pass at me while we were cleaning up in the bathroom and then he… he was too strong, Dean.  Kneeing him in the gut didn’t even help.”  His lip curled in disgust, “And so they thought the treatment didn’t work.  They almost cut my head open, let the damn quack they’ve got down there mess around with my brain.  Gabriel stopped it somehow, and said I was starting a new treatment.” Then, he shrugged, “So far… nothing though.  They gave me a new caseworker, pretty girl by the name of Ruby.  You’d like her, Dean.”  

 

“Black hair, kinda short with a cute face?” Dean motioned to the door he had come through and chuckled. “I met her on the way in, she seemed nice enough. I mean, she was pretty insistent that you were taken care of. I guess this place can do some things right after all.” He shot a smug smirk at the guard, who was leaning against the wall; the guy seemed extremely uncomfortable.

 

“Pretty much the only thing they got right here,” Sam grunted, “And hey, don’t you have a wife? Back off the pretty prison guards, you caveman.”

 

“Hey, hey!” Dean leaned in, patting his brother’s arm. “Just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t browse the menu, if you get my drift. Besides, it might be time for your luck to turn around; she seems to like you.”

 

Sam snorted. “Doubtful.  No one except Gabriel seems to like me around here, and even then, he only feels sympathy for me.” He narrowed his eyes, “What makes you say that, though?”

 

Dean sighed, “Don’t get your panties in a knot, Sammy, I was just pointing it out. I only want you to be happy and to come home, of course. Who’s Gabriel again?”

 

“You remember the short blond guard the day they picked me up?” Sam raised his eyebrows, “He apparently decided that being nice to me was better than hitting me, so they put me under his care.”

 

“Can’t say I recall, sorry.” The elder Winchester shrugged his shoulders. “He doesn’t seem to be around today, anyway.”

 

“Yeah, ever since they tacked Ruby to my butt, Gabriel’s been too busy to come by and chat,” a fleeting look of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too soon for anyone but Dean to notice,  “she’s been getting things done for me more than he has, at any rate.  Can’t count the number of times I’ve begged him to get you in to see me.”

 

“A lady’s touch, no doubt.” Dean teased lightly, careful not to say anything to upset his brother; he could tell Sam was more than a little touchy these days, not that he could blame him. “That’s good though, right? Means you’ll get out of here sooner?”

 

Sam scratched at his neck and sighed, “I really hope so, Dean.  She seems really interested in helping me get better, so we’ll see what happens.”  

 

“Well, she got me here, and that is the next best thing. Things are lookin’ up!” He laughed a little, glancing up at Sam.

 

Sam smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Yeah.  I’ve really got to thank her for this somehow.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something...and, if not, I’ll think of something!” Dean joked. When Sam gave him that disapproving look, Dean added, “Oh, come on, it’s not like you’re going to tell Lisa on me! I’m kidding; we are very happy!”

 

“Do you still just have the one kid,” Sam frowned, “What’s his name again?”

 

“Ben?” Dean smiled with striking fondness. “Yeah, we still only have Ben, but he’s a good boy, and God knows I love him. We’re trying for another though, he’s been asking me about a baby brother.” He chuckled at the thought.

 

Sam’s expression was a mix of pride and pain, “I’m so happy for you, man.  I can’t wait to meet the little rugrat.  How old is he now?”

 

"Five--no, excuse me, five and a half; he always gives me trouble about that," Dean replied, rubbing his forearm, "they grow up so fast, Sammy. Whoever said that wasn't kidding." He sighed softly.

 

Sam pulled Dean back into a hug, “Before you know it,” he murmured, “he’ll be fifteen and bringing a girlfriend home for dinner.”

 

"Now, now, Sammy," Dean patted his brother's back, "you know we don't eat girlfriends for dinner in my house--only mother-in-laws."

 

Sam winced and pulled back, “You having trouble with Lisa’s parents again?” he made a sympathetic noise, “What is it this time?”

 

"That was a joke, Sam," Dean chuckled weakly, "Lisa's parents are...fine. They never liked me much, but, since Ben came along, they've been much more pleasant. Things are fine, just fine."

 

“At least I can live vicariously through you, bro.” Sam grinned. “So, with this new little one, are you two hoping for a boy or a girl?  A little girl would have you wrapped around her finger at first sight.”

 

"I don't care much, I think Lisa is hoping for a girl though. Ben wants a brother..." Dean shrugged, "I'll love him or her just the same. Are you hoping for anything in particular?"

 

“You need a daughter, Dean.” Sam grinned, “Like I said, a little Daddy’s girl to invite you to tea parties and dress you up in her favorite hats.”

 

"You just want blackmail, don't you?" Even so, Dean smiled at the thought; he wouldn't mind a little girl, not at all.

 

“As your younger brother,” Sam said expansively, “it’s my duty to get any and all blackmail material on you possible. Especially if you’re having tea parties with dolls.”

 

"Hey, there's no shame in having a good ol' fashioned tea party every now and then!" Dean protested, pulling away to give his brother a very serious look.

 

“You say that now,” Sam teased, “but wait until she’s painting your face with her mother’s make-up and demanding you go outside with her.”

 

Dean opened his mouth and shut it again, narrowing his eyes. “Shut up!”

 

Sam crowed with laughter and thumped Dean on the back, “I got you there, didn’t I?  I would pay good money to see you with a baby girl, if only for that reason.”

 

“Well, how about you focus on gettin’ home first, yeah?” Dean’s small smile returned. “With any luck, this whole visitation thing will be more than a one time thing until then.”

 

Sam took a deep breath and put on a smile, “I can only hope.  Maybe, if she thinks I’m getting better, I can see you more often.” He pulled Dean into another hug, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, man.”

 

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual.” Usually, Dean would have been a little more hesitant to go in for so many hugs, but this was his little brother; not only that, he hadn’t seen Sam is almost three years.

 

Sam was quiet for a long time after that, searching for something to say, but coming up with nothing.  “You know,” he said finally, “I thought I’d have a lot more to talk about with you, but really… I’m happy to just sit here with you.”

 

Dean shrugged. “That works for me, life hasn’t been particularly interesting lately anyway.”

  
Sam smiled, and the minutes slipped by in silence as he soaked up his brother's presence.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sammy gets some help and the authors apologise for the delay.

“Hey,” Sam put down his latest read from the prison library and cocked his head to the side, “Ruby, I haven’t had a session with Naomi is a few weeks. What’s she waiting for?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned widely. 

 

Ruby cocked a brow, glancing in Sam’s direction. “Actually, I’m not sure. Are you really that eager to get back on that couch? I mean, it is pretty comfortable, but…” she trailed off, chuckling at her subtle attempt at a joke. 

 

Sam shook his head. “Nightmares.” he said shortly. “They’re keeping me up at night. Thought she could get me a sleeping pill or something to keep me knocked out.”

 

"Nightmares?" She frowned in concern. "What's troubling you, Sam?" 

 

“Nothing tangible,” he replied, leaning against the wall, “feelings of dread, and regret, and… pain.” He shook his head, “Feeling trapped.” 

 

Ruby nodded. "I'll talk to her as soon as she's available, all right? Next time, you should tell me about these things right when they start happening."

 

Sam huffed a small laugh. “Didn’t want to bother you. You’ve done so much for me already.” 

 

"You're never a bother, Sam, I promise." Ruby replied, giving him a warm smile. "I'll get this taken care, right now, okay?" With a nod, she headed out to locate Naomi. 

 

Sam stayed relaxing against the wall until Ruby returned. He closed his eyes and half-dozed in his position.

 

"Good news, Sam," when Sam next opened his eyes, Ruby was standing just in front of him, "Naomi says she can take you in now."

 

“Right now?” Sam blinked the sleep away from his eyes, “That’s… wow that’s great.” He stood and stretched, “Lead the way.” 

 

Ruby nodded and started back out, bringing Sam to Naomi's office. 

 

"I'll be right outside."

 

When Sam stepped into the office, Naomi was waiting for him, clipboard in hand. "Hello, Samuel."

 

Sam slumped wearily into the embrace of the couch. “Hi. Been having nightmares. Did Ruby tell you what was up?”

 

“She gave me the rundown, yes. You are in want of sleeping pills to help.” Naomi took a seat, looking Sam over once or twice, assessing his need. “Why don’t you tell me about your nightmares?” 

 

Sam exhaled sharply, “They’re… more feelings than anything else. Drowning, suffocations. So much… regret.” He frowned and pinched his eyebrows together. “I think that the regret is the worst of it.” 

 

“And what exactly do you regret, Samuel?” Naomi watched him closely, pen tapping against the metal part of the clipboard. 

 

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. The dream was a little vague on that score. It was just a feeling, a sharp pain in my chest. That one came right after my nightmare about drowning.”

 

Naomi sighed heavily, obviously disappointed by Sam’s lack of details. “Well, it’s a little difficult to remedy something so ambiguous. Is there anything else that you can tell me? I don’t want to prescribe sleeping pills if they only help you avoid the problem at hand. That would be unprofessional of me.” 

 

Sam couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped his lips. “Well,” he chuckled, “Drowning isn’t bad enough? I always get nightmares where I’m dying. Buried alive, drowning, falling… there was even one where I was possessed and tried to kill a girl.” He half smiled, “She was blonde, twenty-something, really pretty.” 

 

Nodding, Naomi took notes, evaluating Sam as he spoke. Her expression gave nothing away, however, she was beginning to consider allowing for his request.

 

He flopped over onto his side and started poking the cushion. “Then there was one where Dean became a monster, and I had to kill him. Cut off his head, I think?” he started laughing, “And then I had one where the Devil was singing stairway to heaven at me! That one was kind of funny.” 

 

"You think the Devil is funny, Mister Winchester?" Naomi seemed legitimately taken aback, scowling heavily at her notes. 

 

Sam felt the need to clarify. “The Devil singing “Stairway to heaven” is kind of amusing, yes. The other times he was torturing me, so… that wasn’t so funny.” Sam raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together in a thin line. 

 

"That's...interesting, to say the least." Naomi bit her lip, setting her pen down. "How long have these been going on?" 

 

Sam shrugged. “A few weeks? I think I started having them shortly after Dean came by.” he traced a pattern into the couch fabric, “It was easy enough to ignore them after I woke up though. That’s why I didn’t bother saying anything until now, but its gotten to the point where I can’t sleep at all.” 

 

"Do you think you brother might have triggered something?" She asked bluntly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

 

Sam shook his head. “We talked about his kid and his life outside. I don’t see how that could have triggered nightmares.” 

 

"Sometimes strange things trigger out worst nightmares, Samuel. Perhaps you feel guilty for abandoning your family all of these years?" 

 

Sam blinked in surprise. “I… hadn’t thought about that,” he said slowly. “Maybe.” 

 

"Now, we're getting somewhere." Naomi chuckled softly, taking further notes. "How do you feel towards your family?" 

 

“I miss them.” Sam said, pursing his lips. “Dean and my mother, mostly. Dad… was never happy about me getting a college education and ridiculed me for it every chance he got.” He sat up, “It's not like I abandoned them on purpose though.” He scratched his head and shrugged again. 

 

"Still, I would not blame you for being broken up about it. I'm not sure it was Dean exactly who triggered it, but, perhaps, his visit did play a part." Naomi stood up then, putting her clipboard down. "We shall look into it; in the mean time, I will prescribe some pills to help."

 

Sam nodded and rolled over on his side, “Awesome. I thought that maybe if I ignored the dreams they’d go away, but drowning them in an artificial sleep sounds like it would be much better than not sleeping at all.” 

 

"It sounds particularly monstrous when you put it like that, but...yes, I suppose you're right." She pulled a slip of paper from her desk, scribbling down a prescription and signing it. "Ruby is right outside, is she not?" 

 

“I suppose, if she hasn’t found something more important to do,” Sam sat up and stretched his arms over his head. 

 

“Oh, I assure you, Sam, there’s nothing more important.” Naomi went to the door and peered out, beckoning Ruby inside; she handed the younger woman the slip of paper. “See that he gets exactly what he needs.”

 

“Of course,” Ruby nodded, then smiled at Sam, “you ready?” 

 

“I suppose. I thought this session would be a lot longer.” he shrugged, “Alright, lead the way.” 

 

After receiving a nod from Naomi, Ruby led Sam from the room, reading the paper over a second time. “Sheesh, what did you tell her to get this prescription? It’s like...the strongest stuff they’re willing to give out sleeping pill-wise.”

 

“Told her the truth,” Sam rolled his shoulders, “I’ve been having dreams about the Devil serenading me with rock music some night and torturing me other nights, in addition to the ones with vague feelings and weird sensations.” 

 

"Well, I'm certainly glad it worked in your favor, Sam." As they approached the pharmacy, Ruby handed the paper to the nurse behind the counter, breathing, "Naomi's orders," when the young lady gave her a surprised look. 

 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Those must really be some strong sleeping pills if we’re getting that kind of look. I’m impressed; something is finally getting done for me around here,” he chuckled. 

 

"Yeah, and rightfully so." Ruby leaned against the counter-top, and she tucked her hands in the pockets of her dark leather jacket. "It's about time they gave you a treatment you actually needed." 

 

Sam had to laugh, “No kidding. Finally, no one messing with my head, scheduling surgery or trying to beat my brains in.” He grinned, “And it's all thanks to you! If you hadn’t come along, I’d probably still be stagnating in that room back there, unable to sleep.” 

 

"You know I'm always happy to help, Sam." Ruby chuckled, glancing over her shoulder to check on the nurse's status. 

 

Sam turned to lean back up against the wall. “Seriously, though. I don’t know what they told you, but Gabe was never able to get as much help for me as you have. I appreciate all his kindness, of course, but…” he trailed off. 

 

"He disappointed you, Sam, I understand." She nodded, turning to take the medication from the nurse. "That's not what I'm going to do. You'll be out of here before the year is up, you'll see."

 

“Are you sure about that?” Sam pushed off from the wall and followed her, “Pretty sure Naomi wants to keep me here an extra year just for those dreams alone.” 

 

"Trust me, Sam," Ruby glanced over her shoulder to meet his gaze, "it may be hard to believe, but Naomi wants you out of here as much as anyone."

 

Sam snickered. "I can imagine so. I've caused no end of trouble over the last... four years has it been now? Either way, I'm sure she just wants me out of her hair."

 

Nodding in agreement, Ruby led Sam back to his cell, reading the label on the pill bottle to herself. "Okay, you're going to take two of these before you go to sleep each night, and it should help. To enhance the effect, you can also take one or two during the day, after meals." 

 

“So, you’re just going to leave those with me?” Sam raised an eyebrow and reclined back onto his cot. 

 

She laughed, “Sorry, Sam, I don’t trust you that much; I’m not allowed. I was just giving you a basic schedule.” 

 

Sam snorted, “That’s what I thought.” Then, he sighed and leaned his head against the wall, “I’m not going to try and kill myself with those, you know. I got over that… I got over it.”

 

“I know, suicide would be extremely counterproductive at this point,” Ruby watched him with a soft smile, “especially since things are looking up.”

 

“I think looking up is an understatement.” He raised his eyebrows, “Things have never looked better since I came here.” He bit his cheek and chewed thoughtfully on it for a moment. “Could I… see something, for a second?” 

 

“What might that be?” Ruby’s eyebrows rose curiously. 

 

Sam stood and slowly shuffled his way over to her, a curious expression on his face. With slow, deliberate movements, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in close to him. He leaned down a little, and the floral scent of her shampoo tickled his nose. As kind and wonderful as she was… he still wish it was Gabriel he had his arms around. 

 

Ruby, taken off guard, did not move at first, blinking. Then, as if to make up for it, she smiled and returned the embrace warmly. “Sam,” she laughed, “you said you wanted to see something. Call me crazy, but, I hardly think this could be considered ‘seeing.’”

 

“I wanted to see how it felt giving you a hug.” he said, all innocence and charm as he stood back up. “Experiment successful. You feel very nice.” 

 

“Thank you, Sam,” she looked up at him, smile bright, “you feel pretty nice yourself.” 

 

He blushed, a natural reaction to getting a compliment, and backed away awkwardly. “I… uh, thanks.” He stood there, arms dangling at his sides. 

 

Ruby watched him, chuckling softly. "You all right there, Sam?" 

 

"Confused," he admitted, "confused and conflicted, right now. It's all very strange right now." 

 

"Would you like to talk about it?" Ruby offered, reaching out to touch Sam's forearm.

 

Sam bit his lip and sighed. “It's difficult to put into words,” he finally replied. 

 

"I see," Ruby nodded, though her expression was hard to read; it was not quite disappointment, yet, it also did not possess the usual level of understanding, "well, we don't have to discuss it now; when you're ready." 

 

Sam made a frustrated noise, “Yeah. Give me just a few days to work it through on my own. I need to know how I’m actually feeling before I 

can put it into words.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a serious discussion.

The confusion and disorientation followed Sam for weeks, despite the disappearance of the nightmares and the full nights of sleep he was finally able to achieve.  He got to see Dean twice more in that time and even managed a visit from his mother.

 

He became distracted, irritable, and a general pain in the ass to be around until he finally took hold of his feelings and sat down to sort them through.  What he found surprised him.

 

Ruby remained by Sam's side regardless of how difficult he was to deal with, because it was her job to make sure he was taken care of.

 

“Ruby?” Sam looked up from the page he’d been scribbling on for the last hour and fiddled with the pencil.  

 

"Yes, Sam?" Ruby looked up, having been reading a book herself. It was one of their quieter days.

 

He tapped the pen on the table for a moment. Then, his breath whooshed out of him in a sigh, and he smiled sheepishly, “I’m… really sorry for the way I’ve been treating you over the last little while.”

 

"It's quite all right, Naomi mentioned mood swings might be a side effect of your medication." She set her book down and smiled.

 

Sam made a frustrated noise and stood.  “There’s something I want to do,” he said quietly, “something I’ve been wanted to do… for a few weeks, I think.  If I tell you, will you help me with it?”

 

"I'll help in anyway I can," Ruby approached him curiously, "what do you need?"

 

Sam licked his lips, “I want to do something special for someone here. How would I go about getting someone a gift?”

 

"Well, I suppose that depends." Ruby furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "What _kind_ of gift were you looking into?"

 

Sam bit the inside of his cheek.  “Something small,” he said softly, “meaningful. Something that would… let this person know what I think about them.” He took a few steps closer to her, hesitant and awkward.

 

 

“Have you ever considered a hand-made present? Those are always meaningful.” Ruby suggested, moving in closer as if to reassure Sam. “When you put effort into something, it shows the person that you truly care.”

 

Sam took a moment consider it and nodded.  “Yeah.  I think you’re right.” Then, he stepped up next to her and bent low, wrapping his arms around her and pressing their lips together in what he hoped was a sincere kiss.

 

Sam had caught Ruby off guard before, however, his kiss brought about a whole new level of surprise. Unsure how to react at first, she stiffened, mind drawing a blank; then, upon latching back onto reality seconds later, she found that the sensation wasn’t exactly as alarming or unpleasant as her initial response had suggested.

 

Ruby wasn’t quite sure what Naomi would think, but, in her own opinion, Sam’s ‘gift’ suggested real progress, and so she kissed him right back.

 

Sam buried his fingers in her hair and tilted her face a little to his and, after a moment of pressing against warm soft lips, he pulled back and smiled.  “From the heart, right?”

 

A bit flustered, Ruby chuckled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y-Yeah, from the heart..."

 

Sam watched her response carefully and his face fell; he inched back.  “Sorry.  I don’t… I’m sorry.  I should have asked.  That was totally inappropriate of me."

 

"No, no." She followed him, taking hold of his hand. "Sam, it...it's okay."

 

He shook his head, “I took advantage of you, even if you… enjoyed the kiss.  I’m sorry for that.”

 

"You didn't take advantage of anyone, Sam," she attempted to reassure him, "besides, it wouldn't have been a gift if you had warned me, right?"

 

Sam nodded, “I… suppose you’re right.  Did you… like it, that is?  I thought about what I was going to do for you for a long time.”

 

With a smile, Ruby nodded her head, squeezing Sam's hand. "I...I did, yes, of course. Did you?"

 

Sam shivered and leaned over for another hug. “I did. I wasn’t sure if I would or not, but I really, really did.”

 

“I’m glad, Sam,” she leaned into the embrace without hesitation, “I honestly am.”

 

He cleared his throat, “Uh, what does this mean for me?” he asked hesitantly.  “I hate to ruin the moment and all, but I’m still a prisoner…”

 

“This means you need to continue on as usual, and leave everything else to me.” Ruby chuckled and pulled away, patting Sam’s arm.

 

Sam smiled and nodded his head, “Don’t I always?”

 

She beamed, “Yes, and that’s one of the reasons why I am so fond of you.”

 

He chewed on his bottom lip, “I can’t help but think it’s inappropriate somehow, to become fond of your captors,” one corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a crooked grin.

 

“You’re more than a captive, Sam, I’ve told you that before.”

 

“Still,” he said, “you’re an officer in charge of me, and I can’t help but feel this is all inappropriate somehow.”

 

“That’s understandable,” Ruby nodded, “but I’m sure it will pass, especially once you’re on your way out of here.”

 

“I feel closer to that now than I have in a long time,” he moved to hug her again, “Thank you, Ruby.”

 

Time passed slowly for Sam, though he felt closer and closer to Ruby every day.  Soon, he stopped asking for visitors, books, and many of the smaller things he’d asked for over the course of the last several months.  He grew increasingly frustrated with his sessions with Naomi, keeping his answers short and brittle, though his voice was nothing but warm and caring with the dark-haired woman he was coming to love.

 

Freedom was so close, he could almost taste it, and he had plans, grand plans, for the day they released him, a day that inched closer and closer.  He sat at his small, cramped desk, doodling on a sheet of notebook paper when he heard a polite cough at the door of his cell.  “Hey, Ruby, come on in.  You know you don’t have to wait there.”

 

“Sorry, Sam, it’s not Ruby this time around,” Came the reply, the voice familiar but distantly so, “am I still allowed to come in?”

 

“Gabriel?!”  Sam stood from his chair and grinned, beckoning the other man to come in.  “Shit, yeah you can come in! It’s been a while, glad to see you finally have time to come and visit.”

 

Gabriel smiled and stepped inside, burying his hands in his pockets. “You’re looking well, compared to last I saw of you.”

 

Sam thought about extending his hand for the other man to shake but thought better of it.  “Yeah, man.  I’ve gotten to see Dean and Mom, and things have just been getting better and better.  Ruby tells me I’m close to getting out of here.”

 

"I don't doubt that." Gabriel stood a ways away from Sam, watching him with a caution that had never been there before, not since the first few months of Sam's admittance, anyway. "Ruby is the newer employee, right?"

 

“She’s been here for at least a year by now, but yeah,” Sam nodded, “she came in shortly after they aborted surgery.  I dunno what she did but,” he shook his head, “it looks like Naomi was right.  I was latching on to one person because this place made me feel pressured.” He gave Gabriel a genuine smile, “I’m cured, man.”

 

"C-Cured, huh?" Gabriel leaned in a little, trying to keep his expression neutral. However, had they made eye contact, it would have been obvious how shocked the guard was.

 

“Yeah,” Sam grinned, “Cured, brand new man.” His grin faltered when he saw the expression on the guard’s face. “What’s with the expression, I thought you’d be happy for me.”

 

“I...I mean, I am happy; that means you’re getting out of here. But…” Gabriel bit his lip and clicked his tongue, then scoffed and smiled weakly. “You know what, nevermind.”

 

“Gabriel,” Sam started, “look, we’re… friends of a sort, right?  You did what you could for me, but in the end, being close to you was just confusing me and keeping me from getting better.  But you can still tell me what’s on your mind.  When I get out of here, I’d be proud to still consider you a friend.” Then he laughed, “Hell, I may even name my first born after you; before Ruby, you were the only nice person in this dump.”

 

“You...really believe it, huh?” Gabriel sighed, his smile fading, “Sam, you used to try so hard to convince me that nothing was wrong with you. I thought...have you really changed so drastically?” He kept his voice hushed, mostly out of habit, but he didn’t actually give a fuck if he was heard, not at that moment. He’d been contemplating quitting since the day Ruby had shown up, and he’d gotten reassigned.

 

Sam nodded.  “I…” he blushed and grinned, “I’m in love with Ruby.  It took me a long time to admit it, but I’ve finally realized that that’s how I feel.  It’s amazing, Gabriel.  I’m going to ask her to marry me when I finally get to go home.”

 

It was unintentional, of course, but, before he could compose himself enough to respond, Gabriel just looked like he had just been punched square in the gut. “Th-That...That’s, um, quite the commitment, S-Sam. You’re positive that’s how you feel?”

 

Sam had turned back to his papers, causing him to miss Gabriel’s reaction.  “Of course I’m sure.” Then, he looked back up and paused, eyes full of worry, “Do you think she’ll have me?  Do you think I should wait until I get a job to ask her? Should I wait until I have a ring?”

 

Gabriel was at a loss for words and, for a moment, he just stared dumbly at Sam.

 

“E-Er...uh, well,” he finally choked out, “I mean, how sure are you that she feels the same?” His response was lame, and he knew it, but, at that point, it was all he could think to ask.

 

Sam shook his head with a heavy sigh.  “She didn’t push me away when I kissed her for the first time, and uh,” his cheeks pinked, “any time after that.  But I won’t know until I ask her, right?”

 

“Oh, you kissed her, did you?” Gabriel laughed only because it was better than the bitter alternative, “Forgive me, but...isn’t that against policy?”

 

“I brought that up and she,” he shrugged, “she said it was alright, that she would do anything to help me.” He grinned, “Seeing family isn’t permitted either, but she got them to bring Dean and Mom back here to see me.”

 

“She sounds like quite a little angel.” As he spoke, the eyeroll was unavoidable.

 

Sam frowned, “What is wrong with you, man? You wanted to cure me, get me out of here, and when it’s finally happening you’re nothing but negative about it!”

 

“They changed you, Sam, and I don’t like it.” Gabriel replied softly, looking away. “If you were on the outside looking in, you wouldn’t like it either.”

 

Sam ground his teeth, “Well maybe that’s what I needed!  Maybe I needed someone to change me, someone who wouldn’t coddle me and, in one breath tell me, I’m fine the way I am, but, in the other, tell me I need to change to get the hell out of here.” He was red-faced and angry, “At least Ruby is consistent in what she wants from me. At least she actually _cares_ about me!”

 

“If you think, for even _one second_ , that I never _cared_ about you, Sam Winchester--!” Gabriel clamped his mouth shut and locked his jaw, chest heaving. Then, he just shook his head; it was probably the closest to vulnerable he had ever appeared on the job, to Sam especially.

 

“Y-You know what, fine. _Fine._ ” He let out the breath he had been holding in, shoulders drooping, “Do whatever you want, I don’t give a flying fuck. You think you’re cured? Good for you; move on with your life and _forget_ about this place, forget _everything_ about it. Go ahead and propose to that Ruby chick. Hell, I hope the bitch says yes, because, you know what, you two _deserve_ each other!” Gabriel shook his head again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m out of your hair, wouldn’t want to screw up your perfect little sunshine life; consider me a bad memory. No, fuck it, don’t _consider_ me at all.”

 

The guard turned to leave, however, upon taking hold of the gate, he changed his mind and glanced over his shoulder, “Just don’t you dare say I never did anything for you.”

 

Then, he left the cell and disappeared down the hall, the echo of his boot heels lingering a few seconds after he was already out of sight.

 

Sam stared after Gabriel and, for one wild minute considered running after the guard. However, he stopped himself and slumped down into his chair. “Forget him,” he muttered. “You’ll be better off.”

 

Just then, Ruby appeared, looking rather taken aback, a folder of paperwork in her hands. “I...just passed Gabriel in the hall; he seemed pretty pissed off. Was he over here? He didn’t upset you, did he, Sam?”

 

“He doesn’t seem to like you very much,” Sam raised his head, “I told him where he could shove it.”

 

“No wonder,” Ruby chuckled, entering the cell, “well, I have something that might cheer you up. C’mere.” She took a seat on his bed, pulling a pen from her back pocket and opening the folder in her hand. “Sign the bottom of this slip.”

 

Sam took the pen from her without question and signed the bottom of the paper.  “Alright, what was that for?”

  
Ruby beamed, taking the pen from him, “Congratulations, Sam Winchester, you’re a free man.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam asks a very important question and runs across someone who cam help him.

Sam turned back to the building that had served as a home for the last four years of his life-- had it really been four?-- and gave Ruby the biggest hug he could manage while Dean idled in the parking lot next to him.  He looked around, swallowed, and scuffed his feet on the pavement, before he dropped to one knee and took her hand in his own.  

“Ruby,” he stared, swallowed and began again, “Ruby, I don’t have a ring on me, and it will probably take me a long time to earn the money for one that doesn’t come out of a gumball machine, but you… you have done so many things for me and been here for me in a way that no one else ever has.”  He smiled up at her and kissed her hand, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

Ruby was speechless, her eyes following Sam as he knelt down and took her hand. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what he was doing or what he had asked, rather, her mind was taking its sweet time processing the information, leaving her dumbstruck for several seconds. The moment she regained her composure, however, she smiled brightly, sandwiching Sam’s hand between both of her own.

                                      “Yes, of course I will.”

Sam’s heart soared, and he stood up, still holding her hand, “I… wow.  This is great!”  The nerves fluttered in his belly.  Odd that he was only nervous after asking.  “Okay..  Wow.  Uhm,” he bit his lip, “I should… probably go with Dean?”  

Ruby laughed, "Yes, that would probably be best. But Sam..." She looked up at him a moment, as if thinking of what to say. Then she stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Sam wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, hard, before letting her loose and climbing into the passenger side of Dean’s Impala.  “Can’t believe you still have this bucket.” Sam said as he slammed the door to make sure it closed right.

"And I can't believe you have a fiancé," Dean countered, watching Sam with a very wicked grin, "I _knew_ she had her eyes on you!"

Sam punched Dean in the shoulder, “Shut _up_. There are a thousand ways that proposal could have gone, and I’m just glad she accepted even though I’ve got no money to my name and no job prospects.  Who is going to hire a sex offender?  No one.  That’s who.”

"Calm yourself, Sammy; you're out. You should celebrate getting your life back, then you can worry about jobs and such later. Besides, I'm sure she understands." Dean pulled out of the parking lot, heading for home. 

“I’m sure she does too,” Sam leaned back into the creaking leather seats, “but to get my life back on track, I need to go back to college.  Which means applying for scholarships and federal aid and the like.  I can’t rely on you and Lisa forever.”

"Yeah, but we'll have to do for now. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you need." Dean gave his brother a genuine smile. "I've got your back, no matter what."

The corners of Sam’s lips twitched, “We’ll see about that when Lisa starts to get antsy.  If anything I can babysit while you two go out.”

"You're under no obligation. Anyway, I know Ben is excited to see his uncle." Dean adjusted his mirror, then switched the radio on just loud enough to give them some background music.

“I’m surprised the rugrat knows who I am. You’ve been sharing letters again?”

"Sometimes. What can I say, he's curious." Dean chuckled.

Sam smiled at that and fell silent, watching the scenery roll by and enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

After a while, they reached the house. Dean parked and switched the car off. "Coming, Sammy?" 

Sam opened the door and slid out, leaning against the side of the Impala. “I think I’ll just stand out here for a minute, absorb the sights, take a walk, that sort of thing,”

"Okay, well, you know where to find me if you need me," Dean replied, digging in his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to his brother. "Just give me a call."

Sam took the still-warm phone and pocketed it. “Labeled under ‘home’ in here?”

"Yup, that's it," Dean nodded, smiling, "try to be home for dinner, yeah? I'm cooking tonight!"

Sam grinned, “I will never again miss one of your meals, man.  I’ll be back in a hour or so.”

"Okay, see you then." And, with that, Dean headed inside.

Sam looked around the neighborhood with a smile and set off at a brisk pace around the block, waving to neighbors as he went.  He wandered around until he found himself standing in a park where couples cuddled on blankets and tossed balls to overly enthusiastic dogs.  “I wonder if Ruby will let me have a dog,” he murmured.  He was so focused on people enjoying themselves that he didn’t notice when he ran into a suited figure, which was almost as tall as he was.

The stranger grunted and took a step back, but did not stumble like most would have. He looked at Sam with an icy blue gaze, clearing his throat, "Excuse me."

Sam bobbed his head in apology.  “My fault.  I got a little distracted, it’s been a while since I came to the park,” He smiled and held out his hand, “Sam Winchester.”

The man eyed Sam with what resembled suspicion, but took his hand regardless, "Lucifer Milton. And you're not the only one distracted these days, I assure you."

Sam shook it firmly. “Oh, you must be,” he trailed off, and the smile faltered, “well.  I knew someone else with a religious name and the surname Milton.  He’s a cop,” He shuffled a few steps back, “So, if he _is_ related to you, then I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, considering where I’ve been.”

"Sam," Lucifer cocked a brow, the look in his eye signifying that he knew exactly who Sam was talking about, "if you are referring to that joke of a re-education center down the street, then you have nothing to worry about. I'm a lawyer."

The smile reappeared on Sam’s face with a vengeance.  “Really?  That’s…” he started laughing. “I was planning on heading back to college to finish my degree.  I wanted to be a prosecutor before I went in.  Small world, huh?”

"Hm," Lucifer nodded, "you know, I could help you with that, maybe set you up with an internship, if you like. I know it must be difficult to even think about getting back into school, especially now."

Sam’s mouth dropped open, “You… you’d do that?” His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally asked, “Why?” 

"Honestly? The system fucked you, and you seem a decent guy.” He shrugged, “besides, if you ask me, we need more reasonable people on the side of the law, and, given your _unique_ experience, you definitely have some perspective to offer. So, what do you say?”

“I say that sounds fantastic.” Sam stuck his hand out again, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Milton.” Then he laughed, “That’s the second time I’ve said that in my life, and something tells me I won’t regret it like I did the first time.”

Lucifer took his hand without any hesitation this time, although his expression was still near impossible to read, apart from the slight smile that spread across his lips, “I can assure you, Mr. Winchester, you won’t.”

Sam let his hand drop again, decidedly less awkward.  “So, what brought you out to the park today?” He asked, “Not that I’m begrudging fate for the opportunity.”

“The office was getting a bit stuffy for my taste, and it’s a nice day.” Lucifer chuckled, stepping forward and glancing at Sam, his eyes inviting the younger man to walk with him. “How about you?”

Sam stepped into line beside the older man, “I just got out today and going into my brother’s house would have felt like going back, right now.  I just needed to… feel free before dinner, I guess. The park was just here.” He reached his arms up and stretched.  “It’s the perfect place to take in the fresh air.”

“Oh yes, I agree,” Lucifer glanced around quietly, hands now residing in his pockets, “this park is about as close to freedom as we’ll find these days, I’m afraid. But I’m sure you’ll get used to your brother’s home, just the same.”

Sam nodded. “I’m sure I will, but, for right now, I need grass and fresh air, not the closeness of four walls and a roof.” He fell silent for a moment, “I’ll probably head home after dark.  It’s been a while since I could see the stars.”

“Sounds like you’ve been away much longer than any innocent man should,” Lucifer scowled, his feelings towards the subject a little more open now; it seemed to hit close to home, “it’s a true shame. How old are you, if I may ask?”

“Twenty-five.” Sam replied, surprised by the man’s reaction to his jail time. “I made it out though,” he said pointedly, “and I’ll be marrying a great girl as soon as I’m working and can afford to get her a ring and a wedding.” He seemed very proud of himself, even going so far as to smile broadly.

“Good for you, seems your luck has turned after all,” Lucifer replied matter-of-factly, giving Sam a relatively pleasant smile and a nod. While some aspects of his personality seemed a bit off, for lack of a better term, this new acquaintance acted as if he was genuinely interested in hearing what Sam had to say. If he really was related to Gabriel--and, by his responses, Sam was guessing he was--Lucifer was very much the more reasonable one.

Sam beamed, “Yeah, I’m starting to feel that way myself.  She’s… stunning.” He cocked his head to the side, “What about you, are you married?  Got a special lady in your life?”

“Only cats at the moment, I’m afraid,” Lucifer replied with another slight chuckle, “but the single life isn’t bad at all.” 

Sam nodded, “I can understand that.  I prefer dogs, myself, but cats can be good pets too.  How many do you have?” 

“Three females. They make better company than one might guess,” he shrugged, a fondness in his tone, “better than much of the population, even.

Sam laughed, “I’m with you on that one.  Most people are assholes, but every now and then, you run into someone who can make it all worthwhile.” Gabriel’s face flitted through his memory before it was replaced with one of Ruby. “I hope you find someone like that, one day.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we have some familial reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild transmisogyny in this chapter guys.

“You can’t just stay in here, you know.” Castiel stood in the doorway of a darkened room.  “It’s been five years , Gabriel.  You need to get out of the house.  Find work.  Get your life moving again.”  He flicked on the light, “You won’t even talk to Balthazar when he calls to check up on you.”

“What’s it to you?” Gabriel hissed tiredly, not bothering to switch on a light or even move from where he was positioned on his bed. Of course, he knew better; he was under Castiel’s roof, using up his resources and his space. So, technically, it wasn’t as if Gabriel’s life choices were none of Castiel’s business. And yet, somehow, Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to care.

Castiel shrugged, even though his brother’s back was turned to him. “Look, you can either get up and come eat dinner with Meg and I, or you can sit here and starve.  I know you haven’t eaten anything yet today, and I made burgers.”

Gabriel started to protest, but his stomach complained on his behalf, “Yeah, fine. I’ll join you in a little, I guess.”

Cas’s smile was small and tight, “Good.  I’ll see you in a few.”  Then he turned, flicked the lights off again, and left the room.

For a while, Gabriel just continued to sit there in the darkness, hands folded in his lap. Then, with a soft sigh, he stood up and headed downstairs; it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

When Gabriel finally came down the stairs, Cas looked up from setting plates out on the table.  “Oh, good.” He smiled, “Your hair looks like a haystack.”

“Oh, lighten up, Castiel.” Meg wrapped one arm around her husband’s neck, “He hasn’t been out of bed all day, right?  He’s supposed to look like a haystack.”

Gabriel chuckled dryly, smoothing his hair down as much as he could. “Yeah, thanks.” He took a seat, chewing on his lower lip.

"Hey, go get the food, will ya?  He looks like he’s going to start chewing on the table.”

Cas nodded and stepped around his small wife to get back to the kitchen.

“So,” she plopped down in the seat, “How are you feeling today, any better than last time I asked?”

“‘bout the same, thanks,” Gabriel replied, watching her with no particular interest, “and yourself?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and grinned at him, “Right now,” she laughed wickedly, “I am feeling amazing.  Your brother does this amazing thing with his to-”

“Meg!  I’m sure Gabriel doesn’t want to hear about that,” his cheeks turned rosy.

In response, Gabriel snorted, “It’s cool, Cassie; nice to hear that you’re a better lover than most would give you credit for.” He leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smile remaining.

Cas made a strangled sort of noise and turned to his wife, “Please refrain from giving him any more ammunition.”

She winked, “No promises, Clarence.”

Cas sighed and shook his head, “Anyway.  There’s a reason I drug you out of your room today.” His voice seemed a little too casual.  “We’re going to have a visitor tomorrow.”

“A visitor? What kind of visitor?” Gabriel asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Our sister is coming by for a visit,” Cas said after he set down a plate, “Meg?  Could you go get the rest of the food please?”

“Sure,” She hopped up from her seat and stepped through the kitchen doorway.

Gabriel cocked a brow, “I thought you and Anna were no longer on speaking terms? Well, that, and she lives halfway across the country now. What are you planning?”

“Our other sister,” Castiel said gently, “you know perfectly well who I am speaking of.”

“Oh,” He looked visibly troubled, “why didn’t you just say Raphael, then? Have to go and confuse me.”

“There should have been no confusion on your part.  Raphael misses you.” He smiled, “She’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Really? Because, the last time we talked, it didn’t go so well, or do you not recall?” Gabriel scoffed, tapping his fork against the table.

“I remember,” Cas said softly, “that doesn’t change the fact that she misses you and wants to see you again,” then he hesitated, “I told her what happened.  Or at least what you told me about what happened.  That’s partly why she’s so amenable to this visit.”

“You told him…” Gabriel furrowed his brow, shaking his head at his brother in disbelief, “that is not information I gave you to tell freely!”

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighed, “Raphael is our sister.  I told her because I needed someone else’s insight on the trouble you were having.  She said she could help.”

Gabriel coughed loudly, looking at Castiel as if he had just committed the worst of betrayals. “He couldn’t help me if he tried; he can’t even get his own life together!”

Castiel clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw rippled.  “Her life is very well put together now.  You missed a lot, when you started working in that place.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting some fucking security, Castiel!” Gabriel growled back, standing, “I got no help from any of you, it was every man for himself! At least I wasn’t a prisoner in one of those dumps!”

Castiel reeled back as if Gabriel had hit him. “Ah.  Well then.  You’re free to go.” His expression smoothed out, “I think I want to have dinner alone with my wife tonight.  I’ll ask her to take you something when we’re finished.”

“Don’t bother,” Gabriel turned away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, “I’m not hungry anyway.” He stormed off, slamming the door of the room he had claimed as his own, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Then, there was silence.

Cas leaned back in his chair and sighed.  “I don’t know what to do with him.  I hope you can help, Raph.”  

The night passed without further incident and a knock at the door announced Raphael’s arrival the next morning.  Castiel greeted his sister warmly and gave her a hug. Then, he quietly told her where she could find Gabriel.

She nodded and replied, “This might take a while.  Don’t worry if we aren’t down for lunch.”

Cas nodded. “Try not to kill him.  He’s being an idiot.”

She laughed and headed for the stairs, “What else is new?”  

She ascended and walked down the hall until she reached her brother’s room.  “Gabriel,” she called through the door, voice much higher and more feminine than the last time he heard it, “I’m coming in.”

From the other side, Gabriel grumbled, “Guess it doesn’t make a difference whether I say no or not.” He knew exactly who it was and, though he did not particularly want Raphael to come in, especially right now, most of his siblings never listened to him anyway.

She smiled and opened the door.  “I’ve missed you, you know.  Despite the way we left things, I never stopped missing you, little brother.”

Naturally, Gabriel did not even look at Raphael; instead, he cleared his throat and, after what seemed like forever, finally uttered a soft, “Yeah, hi.”

“May I sit?” She indicated the bed with a forefinger.

Gabriel, in turn, shrugged, “I guess so.”

She sat on the bed, very close to him and reached her arms out, pulling Gabriel into a hug.  “I’m sorry,” she all but whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Gabriel shifted a little, uncomfortable, but not for the reasons he thought he would be; he was more ashamed than anything. “Wh-What...what the hell are you sorry for?!"

She pulled back, expression full of sympathy. "For the fight we had before I left. I can't help but feel like I drove you to that place," she paused and swallowed before moving on, "and for what you found and lost there."

Gabriel grunted, at last meeting her gaze with a glare that lacked any real fire. “Wh-What’s it to you? Castiel wasn’t even...supposed to fucking say anything. The past is the past, that chapter is over, done with, long gone, never coming back! Capisce?!”

"It doesn't have to be that way." She absently smoothed the comforter with one hand. "You can't lie to me, you know. I changed your diapers, I can tell when you're lying to me."

“I’m not lying, I’m serious!” Gabriel scoffed, “To say it ended badly is a major understatement. Besides, he’s engaged, probably fucking married by now.”

Raphael grinned, "Cas said you wouldn't admit to having feelings for this young man. He owes me a dinner out now." Then, she sobered, "Why don't you just... check up on him. See how he is, at least. Whether you find him or not, you need to get out of here. Quit lying to yourself, Gabriel." She unknowingly echoed Sam's same advice.

Gabriel visibly flinched, and he slumped down even further than before. “N-No, no, I can’t do that, don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was gradually getting quieter, “He doesn’t want to see me.”

She eased her arms back around him, "You have to take that chance. Trust your big sister, things will work out in the end." She sighed and pursed her lips, "You'll regret it if you don't. Besides, I hear Canada is reopening the borders for refugees. You should go, I know I am."

Gabriel furrowed his brows, watching Raphael with genuine uncertainty, “But...how do you know it’s the right thing to do?"

"I don't.  But I do know that you aren't happy here. I also know that you have to take chances and make changes if you ever want to be happy." She grinned, "I'm happier than I've ever been, and I have a husband waiting for me across the border. Take the leap."

Gabriel heaved a heavy sigh, however, it wasn’t as if he was not contemplating her advice. Raphael was right about one thing, if nothing else: he wasn’t happy where he was, and it wasn’t even where he was physically. It was more of where he was in his life in general. He’d quit his job up at the prison and, since then, had been out of work. He didn’t really have any successful relationships, not even with family or friends, both of which he had neglected so long, he was surprised Raphael was even here to see him right now. There were certainly no love interests, apart from...no, she wouldn’t talk to him either. Reflecting, Gabriel only saw more clearly what he had already known; his life was a pathetic waste, and he wasn’t doing anything about it.

So, maybe Raphael did have a point. If he took the leap, so to speak, what would he really have to lose?

“...Fine, guess it’s worth a shot.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

Shortly before the confrontation in Castiel’s kitchen, on the other side of the city, Sam spent his afternoon alone cleaning up the house and preparing for company. Ruby hadn’t told him _who_ was coming over, but it was especially important that her study be clean for said guest.

 

Humming softly to himself, Sam hesitated only a moment before shrugging and spraying Ruby’s computer monitor with windex, wiping it free of dust and soda spots. With a satisfied nod, he turned to the keyboard and lifted it from its resting spot, bumping the mouse in the process.  The screen flared to life, showing what looked like a research paper in progress.

 

Sam sat in the rolling desk chair and peered curiously at the current page, shaking his head at some nonsense medical terms before he scrolled back up to the top to read the title page.

 

_“The role of Temazepine in Conversion Therapy”_

 

            Curious as to what “Tempazepine and Conversion therapy” entailed, Sam read on.  His eyes widened when he first encountered his name, but something in him pressed him forward.  As he scanned deeper into the document, a roiling feeling starting in his belly. When he got to the current cursor position, he stood and clenched his jaw.

 

The lies rang through his head, _Subject Winchester seems to be warming up to my efforts_ , and _The subject rejected his former Guard in favor of myself. I consider this experiment a success.  It needs further testing, however, so I will be continuing the relationship in order to observe him further._

 

Sam shuffled around the house in a daze and stuffed a few changes of clothes into a plastic bag moments before he stumbled out of the door and just began to walk, then jog.  His feet led him to Lucifer’s office building, and he headed up the stairs to his boss’s office, slowing only to smile vacantly at the secretary.

 

Shortly after, he pushed the office door open.  “Boss?”

 

Lucifer was at his desk, scribbling something down on a sheet of paper. When Sam entered, however, he looked up. “Ah, Sam Winchester, what brings your fresh-faced self here today?”

 

“I-I found something.  I don’t know w-what to d-do.” He clutched the bag of clothes to his chest, and his eyes darted around the room.  “R-Ruby drugged me.  She was- I was her Thesis paper for college?  They were testing a new drug on me.  Temazepine.  It’s not on the market, and it makes people suggestible.  She- she’s been _drugging_ me, and she doesn’t love me, and that’s how I got out of prison.  I don’t- you’re the only person I can trust.”

 

Lucifer furrowed his brows, slowly standing as he took in what Sam had just told him. “Well, it’s a fine mess they’ve gotten you into, isn’t it?” He sighed, “Absolutely ridiculous. Hm. Okay, you’re obviously not going back there.” The blond rubbed his cheek, then leaned down, digging in a desk drawer. “You know the way to my apartment, don’t you?”

 

Sam shuddered at the thought of going back, “Yeah. We had the New years party there.  I remember. I can get there.” He took a few shuffling steps forward toward the desk.

 

Lucifer straightened up and handed Sam his keys, his hand coming to rest on the younger man’s forearm. “Go on ahead to my apartment, then. I’ll join you when I’ve finished my work.”

 

Sam’s head bobbed in a nod, and he zoned out again, barely paying attention to his surroundings.  When he arrived at Lucifer’s apartment, it took him a few tries to get the key in the lock, but once he succeeded, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.  

 

After the door clicked closed, he was assaulted with meows and two of Lucifer’s three cats rubbing adoringly at his ankles.  The third sat in a perch under the window and eyed him suspiciously as he shuffled over to the couch and flopped unceremoniously down. The two cats following him, leapt up after and stood on his legs, sniffing enthusiastically.

 

He pet them both absently, trying to not think about the paper while he sat and waited for his boss to come back from work.  

 

Lucifer arrived much sooner than expected; only about an hour had passed before he came through the door. “I see the cats have claimed you as one of their own. How’re you holding up?”

 

Sam’s hands shook as he stroked the ecstatically purring white and tabby cats in his lap, “I-I’m not too sure. I keep feeling like I should go home.  Clean up the house.  Make it perfect for her.” He shook his head, “Don’t let me go,” he pleaded.

 

"Oh believe me, I won't," Lucifer chuckled grimly, hanging up his coat, "you hungry?"

 

Sam shook his head.  “I haven’t eaten though.  I really should.  Probably.” He reached up to scratch the aloof grey cat, who had wandered over close enough and deigned to be petted.

 

"I was going to make some spaghetti, you good with that?" Lucifer smiled slightly, on his way to the kitchen.

 

Sam jerked violently, “No. No.  She made that last night.  I think.  Did I make it?” He shook his head again, “Something else please, I’m sorry.”

 

"Okay," Lucifer proceeded to rustle in the cupboard, hoping to find something worth eating, "how about some soup?"

 

“I can do that.  Thank you.” He pressed the back of his head into the sofa cushion, “I’m sorry for being a bother.”

 

"You're no bother," the blond replied, breaking out the can opener, "potato okay?"

 

“Yeah,” Sam managed a smile even though Lucifer couldn’t see it, “That sounds great.  Thank you.”

 

Lucifer nodded and started up the soup. It was ready just short of fifteen minutes later.

 

"Careful," Lucifer warned as he brought a bowl over, "it's hot. Well, that, and my cats sometimes mistake our food for their food."

 

Sam forced a smile as he took the bowl and shoved the cats away with his elbows.  “Probably because you spoil the little furballs rotten. Can I have some ketchup?”

 

“Ketchup?” Lucifer eyed Sam curiously, “Do you often have ketchup with your soup, Sam?”

 

Sam shrugged, “Since getting out of prison I crave ketchup on pretty much everything.  We didn’t have any while I was in and I just… I just gotta have it.”

 

“Not my favorite condiment, but, to each his own,” Lucifer began to rustle around in the fridge; when he rejoined Sam in the living room, he handed over some ketchup. “There you are.”

 

Sam flicked open the lid and squirted a healthy amount into his bowl before closing the bottle and setting it on the coffee table.  He bit his lip and stirred the mixture very carefully before taking a small bite and sighing.  “Thanks, I mean it, for...for everything.”

 

Lucifer only nodded, settling down with his own bowl of soup, “It’s no trouble, really. Nobody deserves to get screwed over so badly.”

 

Sam ate in silence, all the while trying to think of something to say, some polite conversation he could start up, but nothing came to him. As he stared into the pale red dregs, he said very quietly, “Why do they do this?”

 

“Hm?” Lucifer looked up from his bowl, his gaze falling on Sam.

 

“The drugging, the prison… all of it.” He looked up, face creased with confusion.  “I don’t understand it at all.”

 

“In all honesty, I don’t think half of the people working in that field do. The government says jump, they ask how high; that’s just how it is today, I’m afraid.” Lucifer shrugged slightly, giving Sam a sympathetic look, “Our world is fucked up.”

 

Sam fell silent again for a few moments.  “Can I stay here? I don’t think I could get an apartment.  We’ve got a joint bank account.  I just… I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course,” came the response, “you’re more than welcome here until you get back on your feet.”

 

Sam sighed in relief.  “Thank you.  She said the drug they had me on was Temazepine. Do you know anything about it?”

 

“I’ve heard the name, but I don’t have any first-hand experience with it, if that’s what you’re asking. I can, however, look it up to examine the effects, if that makes you feel more secure?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t want her calling me up and telling me to come home and… to feel like I should go.  As a matter of fact,” Sam rummaged in his pants pockets for his phone and held it out, “Take this from me too.”

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Lucifer replied, taking Sam’s phone without question and switching it off, “better to get potential disasters out of the way sooner rather than later.”

 

“So, where do we go from here?” Sam asked, after visibly resisting the urge to snatch his phone back.  “What do I… do?”

 

“Well, I can’t exactly control you, Sam,” the other man shrugged his shoulders, “but my advice would be that you just hang around here awhile, focus on getting better.”

 

“Can I still come in to work?” Sam absently scratched a cat, “Or should I just try to stay where she can’t find me?”

 

“Stay here, lay low,” Lucifer suggested immediately, standing to bring the dishes to the sink, “you can come back to work in good time.”

  
Sam spread his hands wide in his lap and stares at them for a moment before nodding.  “Yeah. I can do that.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sammy doesn't cope well

Three sleepless nights later and Sam stared at the melatonin on his pillow-top, before he shuddered and dropped them into the bedside table drawer. He shuffled under the covers, pulling them tight around his chin and closed his eyes.

 

Only, they popped back open a few seconds later when something thumped in the apartment. “Just a cat,” He muttered, rubbing his hurting eyes with one hand.  He closed his eyes again.  His ears caught every sound in the apartment, from the creaking of the wood settling to one of the cats chasing the other through the kitchen.  These noises though, finally lulled him into slumber.

 

When he awoke a few hours later, he stared around the room, baffled.  With a deep frown, he patted the bed next to him, finding it empty.  “Gotta get home,” he murmured, rising to his feet.  He opened his bedroom door without a sound and padded barefoot down the hall, until he reached Lucifer’s front door.  With a decisive nod, he opened it and a shrill alarm shrieked through the air.

 

Lucifer was up and in the front room in seconds, the sound of the alarm startling him from sleep, into a state of pure adrenaline. He'd been robbed before.

 

"Sam? What the hell is going on?"

 

Lucifer found Sam curled on the floor, hands over his ears and the wild look of a frightened animal on his face.  “I-” he started, “I needed to get home?” he shook his head as if trying to clear it. “She’s expecting me.”

 

In response, Lucifer simply sighed and went to switch the alarm off. Then, he leaned down, pulling Sam to his feet. "Nobody is expecting you, Sam. You're right where you need to be. Come on..."

 

Sam followed, head cocked to the side and a bemused frown marring his features. “Are you sure?” He shook his still sleep fogged brain, “I mean…” he shook it again.  “What in the hell am I doing?”

 

"Just relax, try to get back to bed." Lucifer led him back to his room. "You need anything? Some water?"

 

Sam shook his head once more. "No. I think I'll be alright." He smiled weakly, "Thank you. Again. You may need to lock me in to keep me from wandering around."

 

"You're not an animal, Sam, I'm not locking you in." Lucifer laughed slightly, patting Sam's shoulder. "Just...try to get some sleep."

 

Sam smiled faintly in response and stepped into his room, burrowing back underneath the covers.

 

Over the next week, Sam slipped out of bed at least four more times and the security guard downstairs finally had to be warned against his midnight wanderings.  A gentle reminder to not try to leave at night from Lucifer restrained Sam’s impulses though.

 

His days were filled with sweating and shakes, gradually at first, and then with greater frequency.  His nights were full of nightmares, and more often than not, stayed sleepless.  To distract himself from the withdrawal signs, Sam busied himself keeping the tiny apartment spotless, though it all came to a head one day when he took in the notion to wash the dishes.

 

Lucifer arrived home a bit early that day. He looked around the front room as he removed his jacket and shoes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam. As the young man’s symptoms had been steadily worsening, it was safe to say that Lucifer was becoming more wary of his behaviors.

 

“Sam? You around?” He checked his watch; it was more than likely that Sam was in the kitchen around this time, so that’s exactly where Lucifer headed. “Sam?”

 

Sam stood in front of the sink, elbow deep in soapy water, humming a toneless melody.  It looked as if he’d drug out every dish in the house, including the fine china.  Most of the dishes stood to his left, but a goodly number appear to have been washed and dried already. “I’m in here,” he broke off for a moment and then went right back to humming.

 

Lucifer glanced around. “What are you doing in here? Washing dishes?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, watching Sam almost knowingly.

 

Sam stopped humming again and beamed across the room at Lucifer.  “They needed to be done,” he shrugged, “I thought I might have time before you got home but I tried to use the dishwasher first.” He made a wry face, “It just didn’t get them clean enough.”

 

“Sam,” Lucifer sighed his name, but didn’t move any closer, “the dishwasher does a satisfactory job. You don’t need to re-wash my dishes.” It was something he had told Sam many times before.

 

Sam scrubbed at the already clean plate with his sponge. “If I don’t wash them, they’ll make you sick.” He set the sponge on the counter.  “I have to.  I _know_ that the dishwasher probably… maybe gets them clean enough.  Ruby told me I have to wash them by hand or they won’t be clean enough.  I _have_ to do this the right way.”

 

“Sam, we’ve talked about this,” Lucifer now began to approach him, cautiously but with no implication of backing down, “what you’re doing, it isn’t you. It’s a side effect. It’s self-destructive, you’re giving into _her_. Put the dish down.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Sam’s somewhat pleasant demeanor disappeared almost instantly.  He raised the soapy plate in one hand and grabbed the sponge from where it lay.  “I know that it doesn’t take twenty clockwise and twelve counterclockwise strokes to make sure its clean after the food has been scrubbed off.” He dropped the sponge into the sink full of water and raised the plate over his head, fully prepared to smash it to the floor.

 

Lucifer advanced then and snatched the plate from Sam’s hands, willing him to lower his arms. “Calm down. Look at me,” He straightened up so he was as level with the other man as he could possibly be, his piercing eyes calm, yet just sympathetic enough, “I know you’re frustrated, and it is going to take time. You’re going to get over this. Those stupid pills they gave you, that’s all they are-- _pills_ , inanimate objects that you can decide whether or not to take. You are in control. They have no power over you; _she_ has no power over you.”

 

Sam bit his bottom lip and stared into Lucifer’s face before he turned away and slammed his fist into the counter.  “I know.  I know that.” He lifted a hand to his forehead and hunched over, trying to seem smaller.  “But how?  Do I keep sitting here?  Do I keep shaking and throwing up and sweating? How can there be anything past getting this crap out of my system?”

 

“Nobody said it would be easy, or quick, Sam. But, I promise you, it’s going to pass.” Lucifer watched him carefully, eyes softer now, slightly pitying. He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of the kitchen; it’ll help, if only just a little.”

 

Sam eyed his boss’s hand for a few moments before he took it with a sigh and let Lucifer lead him out into the living room.  “You got any ideas?” he said, voice flat and emotionless.

 

“Well…” Lucifer took a seat on his sofa, tugging Sam’s hand just enough to invite him to sit without forcing him, “you’ll have to talk to me about it. What sets you off?”

 

“There’s nothing for me to do here.” Sam took the silent invitation and settled onto the couch, lips twitching in amusement when the tabby cat leapt up and settled into his lap, purring loudly.  “I have nothing to keep me from thinking about it all the time.”

 

“I see. Then, perhaps it is time I take a day off, and we go on an outing. Would you like that?” Lucifer turned to face Sam, smiling slightly.

 

Sam brushed his hand over the ecstatically purring cat, before he looked up again and also smiled, though it dropped a little and faded all too soon.  “Yeah.  I’d like that.  Where are we going?”

 

“What sounds fun to you? What will take your mind off of things?” Lucifer inquired, leaning in a little--a habit he had picked up from his occupation, no doubt. When asking questions, it was always better for one’s body movement to mirror engagement, after all.

 

Sam bit his lip and looked away, “The park?”

 

The blond chuckled, nodding his head, “Yes, the park is a start; it’s close and relatively nice. After we go a few times, maybe you can even take yourself once in a while, you know, to get out of here. Distraction is good in moderation, it helps us cope.”

 

Sam nodded slowly, “I think you’re right.  I could even go to the shelter, right? Volunteer.  Walk the dogs.  Keep occupied until I can actually come back to work.” His gaze flickered to his still held hand, but he looked back up almost immediately.

 

“Yes, exactly.”

 

Over the next few weeks, the shaking and the night sweats grew less.  Sam ventured out of the apartment more and more often, finding himself in volunteer work at the local shelter.  He began taking better care of himself, sleeping more and making sure to shower daily.  The incident in the kitchen passed from his mind, though he still kept the apartment spotless.  Anytime the urges came back, he simply took a walk down to the park.

 

Slowly his thoughts turned from Ruby and what she would think, to the way he’d treated Gabriel on his last day.  He wanted to apologize, but it seemed an impossible task and one he would never bring up in front of Lucifer.  

 

“I feel kind of bad,” he said one day as they were sitting on the couch and eating dinner, “for cutting Dean and Ben out of my life the way I did.  But not bad enough to risk Ruby finding me.”

 

Lucifer took a bite of his food, waving the fork around a bit and nodding, “Ya know, Sam, you don’t need to feel bad about it. First and foremost, you really have to do what’s right for you.”

 

“I know that,” Sam shifted a little closer, “But I still feel like I should have stopped by instead of just sending a letter from work.” Then he shook his head, “I’m not going to ruin the life he has with Lisa, though.  If I went back it could cause huge problems for them.”

 

“You’ll see him again someday, Sam, don’t worry about it too much. Like everything, it’s going to take time. You need to get your life together before you can worry about your brother. From what you told me, it sounds like he’s got plenty to keep him occupied.” Lucifer took a sip from his glass of wine, which he had taken to having almost every night with dinner.

 

Sam followed the glass of wide as Lucifer took a sip and grinned, “So, I’ve driven you to drink, have I?”

 

“Nah, not really,” Lucifer shrugged, “it’s something I used to do. A glass of red wine a day, it’s good for that heart.” He patted his chest and chuckled.

 

Sam poked at his plate a little before standing and reaching for his own empty glass, “Are you finished yet?” he waved his full hand at Lucifer’s dinner.

 

“Oh, yeah, I am,” Lucifer blinked and smiled, handing him the plate, “thanks.”

 

Sam took the plate and stepped into the kitchen and set them on the counter with a soft clink. The sponge sat on the counter next to the cold handle and Sam itched to reach out and start cleaning.  It took him far too long to squash the urge and turn around.

 

“Sam?” Lucifer stepped into the kitchen just before Sam had turned to leave, his wine glass in hand, “You good?”

 

“I-I’m fine.” Sam smiles broadly and closes the distance between them.  He swallows once, and before Lucifer can react, he leans down to press a kiss to Lucifer’s lips.

 

Sam had succeeded in catching Lucifer completely off guard, which was saying something, because the blond had all but grown accustom to all of the brunet’s little quirks. Blinking, it took him a moment to register what was happening, and, when he did, he broke the kiss immediately.

 

Sam shuffed backwards, confusion and shame in his expression.  “I’m sorry,” his voice shook, “I didn’t… I’m sorry, I thought-”

 

“Hey, hey, don’t freak out,” Lucifer replied calmly, grabbing hold of Sam’s arm, “you don’t have to apologize, Sam.”

 

Sam stared at him wide-eyed as if Lucifer had lost his mind, “Yes.  I do.  That was… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Lucifer didn’t let go of Sam’s arm, even if there was a chance it was confusing him; he needed to keep him grounded, “and, normally, I wouldn’t have been so hasty to pull away. I can’t deny that I am...fond of you. But you’re not ready for a relationship, not now, and it would be wrong of me to tell you anything different.”

 

Sam blinked at him before he started to laugh.  Tears leaked from his eyes and the laughter trailed off into sniffles.  “You… you’re right.  I can’t stay here anymore.  You’ve done so much for me, and I’ll never be able to repay that.  There’s… there’s someone I have to find, though.”  

 

Lucifer chuckled knowingly, “You’re talking about my brother, aren’t you?” In any other situation, the question could have come across as offended, however, given Lucifer’s tone, it was clear that he didn’t really mind.

 

Sam nodded.  “I need to find him.  I treated him badly the last time I saw him and he needs to know.  Thank you.”

  
“Well, why don’t you stay here just for the night? We’ll get your stuff together in the morning, and then you can head out. He was headed to Canada last I heard, and that’s quite a ways away.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the authors try not to cry at everything

Time passed and the seasons turned in Vancouver without any regard to the humans who strived to carve out a place among them.

 

Gabriel settled into what he knew best and took up a job as a police officer. Except here it really was serve and protect.

 

Needless to say, there wasn’t always a whole lot of action up in Canada. In fact, there was just barely enough for Gabriel to keep preoccupied. This particular day--a mild Thursday afternoon--was another slow day, so, the officer was hanging out in a strategic location just off the side of the road, hoping to catch a few cars flying way over the speed limit.

 

Gabriel had looked away from the road for just a moment when a sleek black car raced by him and the VASCAR device in his car lit up with nearly thirty kilometers over the limit. He reached for the sirens, lit up his car, and tore after the speeder.

 

It took him a minute to catch up to the car, but it would seem that the driver had already accepted his fate, because he slowed and pulled over fairly quickly. Gabriel stalled his own car just behind the offending vehicle, pulling out his notepad and making his way up to the driver's window. Brows raised, he leaned against the door and waited for the driver to roll down his window.

 

The window rolled down to reveal a shaggy head of hair and a very familiar face that gaped at him in astonishment, "Gabriel!?"

 

Any attempt that Gabriel had put towards being casual or smooth immediately went down the drain, the look of surprise on his face unmistakable. Well, that and, of course, the fact that he dropped his notepad which, conveniently, landed in the car. "S-Sam...?! Ah, er, uhh, h-hey..."

 

Sam's mouth shut with a click and a grin bloomed, "Y-You...You’re actually here." He opened the door of his car and stepped out, "Dude, you have no idea how long I’ve been trying to track you down."

 

Instinctively, Gabriel backed up a little; it had been so long, it was safe to say that he had almost forgotten just how tall Sam was. "Y-Yeah, er...fancy seeing you here!" He laughed nervously.

 

Sam kept himself from reaching out for Gabriel and forced the smile from his face, “How are you? How have you been? How… how long have you been here?”

 

"I've been, well, better. It's been a good couple of years now," Gabriel replied, blinking as he realized just how much time had passed, "but, I mean...how long have you been here? I haven't...seen you around."

 

“I’ve been here for a few years myself.” He paused and bit his lip, “It is a very, very long story.  Lucifer sent me out here.”

 

"Lucifer?" Gabriel snorted, even more surprised than he had been previously; what a day this was turning out to be. "As in, my brother, the blood-sucking lawyer, _that_ Lucifer?"

 

Sam let out a chuckle, “Watch those terms you throw around.  He put me through school and hired me after I got out,” he hesitated, “and he took me in when I found out that Ruby had been drugging me.”

 

"Hey, I mean that in the most endearing way." Gabriel replied, his tone slightly defensive; truth be told, he missed his brother dearly, most of his siblings really. Canada was nice, but it certainly was lonely. "Ruby...she was drugging you? Even after...well, you know..."

 

“She was drugging me from the beginning.” Sam reached back into the car for his cell phone, “Hang on just a minute.” He flipped the phone open and dialed a number.  “Hey, Bartholomew?  Yeah.  I just ran into an old friend on my way out… yeah.  That’s him.” he was quiet for a moment, “I’m glad you understand.  See you around, alright?”  He closed the phone with a grin.  “So, when do you get off work?”

 

Gabriel chuckled, unable to stop the smirk that appeared across his lips, "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" He purposely avoided Sam's question. "Where were you off to?"

 

“A date,” he replied,  “that doesn’t matter anymore though.  I wanted to talk to you, see you.”

 

"Ah, well, I see that I have once again swept you off your feet," Gabriel smoothed his hair back, "that changes everything. I get off around four."

 

The grin returned at full force, “You know that Cafe on Beatty and Dunsmuir?  The Medina Cafe?”

 

“Of course, they serve some of the best pastries around. Are you asking me to meet you there? Like a... _date_?” Inside, he felt timid and unsure; seeing Sam again after things had ended so badly, it was like walking on eggshells. Still, as was in his nature, he made sure to radiate confidence in order to make up for his initial reaction.

 

Sam shrugged and hunched over a little. “If you want to call it that,” he said softly, “I know _I_ wouldn’t mind.” A pause, then another smile, “You _did_ just say you swept me off my feet.”

 

“Which reminds me,” Gabriel added, reaching into Sam’s car to grab his notepad, “you almost swept me off my feet and into the mud when you sped by. You know I do still have to give you a ticket, right?”

 

“Aw!  Come on, can’t you let me off, just this once?  If I hadn’t been going so fast, we probably would have never seen each other again.” Sam furrowed his brows, using his outrageous puppy-dog eyes to his advantage.

 

"...Fine, but just this once." Gabriel gave a breathy chuckle and stuck his notebook back into his pocket. "You're lucky you're cute."

 

“No,” Sam smiled as he got back into his car, “I’m lucky I was running late.” Then, he fastened his seatbelt and rolled up the window.

 

Gabriel waved to Sam briefly as he drove off--going the speed limit this time, it’s worth noting--and then returned to his own car. The rest of the afternoon was relatively uneventful, and, the moment his watch beeped at four o'clock, he raced home to change.

 

Even if it meant he was going to have to arrive fashionably late, Gabriel had to go home and get out of his uniform. This was, more a less a new start for them--both of them--and Gabriel didn't want to attend their little 'date' in uniform anymore than Sam would have wanted to come wearing a jumpsuit.

 

Once he was relatively satisfied with his outfit, the blond took off, heading for the cafe.

 

Sam stood waiting outside of the cafe doors in a pair of slacks and a light blue plaid button up.  He could not help the look of utter peace that fell over his face when he saw Gabriel.  “You’re here,” he murmured when the other man came within earshot.  “I was a bit skeptical on whether or not you would actually come.”

 

"What, you didn't think I was going to show?" Gabriel cocked a brow, arms crossed against his chest. "We live in the same area now, chances are I would run into you sometime in the future, and you would have my ass then, so...not standing you up is in my best interest."

 

“Shall we, then?” Sam gestured towards the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Gabriel to follow him.  “So,” he said when they were both in the cool interior, “What actually brought you out here to Canada?”

 

"Well, it was my siblings; my sister, to be exact." Gabriel smiled a little at the thought; now more than ever, he was glad he'd decided to come here. "Also, ya know, I kinda promised you, so..."

 

"I wasn't sure you'd keep your promise," he said leading way to a small, out of the way table. "We parted on some pretty shitty terms. How... how have you been?"

 

"Hey, you know me," Gabriel responded, taking a seat, "I bounce back pretty easily. No hard feelings! How have you been?"

 

Sam slumped in his own seat and sighed.  “It was about five years after I got out when I saw her thesis paper.  She’d been drugging me with something that… made me suggestible. It’s how she wormed her way into my life and… well, replaced you.”

 

“Well, yeah, I guess we both should have realized that. I mean, how else would you be able to explain it? I’m a hot piece of ass, and she’s...ehh.” He wiggled his hand, as if to say, ‘so-so;’ it was obvious that he was trying to make a joke out of it to make Sam feel better. It also may have had something to do with the fact that Gabriel was a bit intimidated by serious discussions.

 

Sam huffed a laugh, “Yeah.  When I found the paper, I left immediately to go see Lucifer; figured he was really the only one who could help me.  He let me stay with him and...detox, and he annulled my marriage to her. He told me he’d heard you came up here so I left to follow you.  Since I got here,” Sam sighed, “I looked everywhere I could for the first year.  This year, though?  I,” he hunched over a little more, “I gave up.  Tried to start living again.”

 

“Life has a funny way of getting you back on track, doesn’t it?” Gabriel chuckled, leaning back a little in his chair. “As far as I knew, you were still with that bitch and wanted nothing to do with me. What a pleasant surprise.”

 

Sam reached across the table for Gabriel’s hand, slow and hesitant.  “Do you think we could give us a try?  It’s been seven years since we walked away from each other, but once I knew what was happening to me… you were all I thought about.”

 

Gabriel tapped his fingers on the table, stalling a moment before allowing Sam to take hold of his hand. “Well, I showed today, didn’t I? I mean...things are different now, so...I don’t see why we shouldn’t at least try. I mean, as long as that’s what you really want this time around...” He felt very uneasy in that moment, afraid to meet Sam’s gaze. A lot of time had passed, and, yes, the last words they had exchanged had been under very specific circumstances, however, the caution was still there.

 

Sam’s fingers traced the lines on gabriel’s palm.  “Trust me.  Things have changed so much since then,” then, he chuckled, “And it was your brother that gave me the shove out the door.  He set me up with a firm here too… all so I could have a better chance at finding you.”

 

“Good ol’ Luce,” Gabriel chuckled, “I’ll have to give him a call and thank him; it’ll be an excuse to start talking again.” His tone was light regardless of the subject’s true heaviness. “Looks like I’m definitely not allowed to turn you down now.”

 

Sam’s hand clenched a little, “Don’t feel obligated.  It would be enough just knowing that you’re safe and happy now.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel gave Sam’s hand a squeeze to reassure him, “you’re no obligation. I...I do want to give us a try.” He finally admitted it and, truth be told, it kind of came as a relief. “I really, really do.”

 

Tears pricked the corner of Sam’s eyes and he laughed in relief.  “All these years,” he murmured, “All these years and I never thought I would ever get this chance.  I think its about time life started working for me, instead of against me.”

 

“Honestly, Sam, I feel like I’ve never agreed with you more.” Gabriel smiled a little, his expression surprisingly bashful, if only for a second. “I just hope things keep working out like this.”

 

That date was not their last, nor did it even come close.  Over the course of the next year Sam and Gabriel spent more and more of their time together.  They did not just stick to Vancouver, but travelled all over Southern Canada and even made one courageous trip into the Yukon.

 

Sam couldn’t remember when he’d ever been happier. Although, doubt still lingered in the back of his mind, especially when Gabriel began acting nervous around the date of their one year, and he came home to find dinner and lit candles on the kitchen table.

 

“Gabriel?” He called out, worried that Gabriel felt the need to apologise for something.

 

Gabriel played with the bottom of his shirt nervously, giving Sam a small smile. “Er, you’ll have to forgive me Sam, I’m no good as stuff like this, but I thought it would be good idea to set something up before I lost my nerve. U-Um,” He cleared his throat, pulling a chair out to offer Sam a seat, “I know a year is barely anything compared to..w-well, ya know, the amount of time we spent apart and all, but...it’s been a really good year, ya know? And...And I want to have more good years, eh…” he paused, swallowing, “with you. So,” taking a deep breath, Gabriel stood before Sam and lowered himself down to one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket, “do you think you might wanna marry me?” He popped the box open to reveal a simple, but nice, silver band.

 

Sam’s hands shook as he dropped down to Gabriel’s level and pulled the other man into a hug.  “Yes,” he whispered into Gabriel’s ear. “Forever, yes.”

 


	21. Epilogue

Gabriel and Sam didn't make any grand spectacle of their wedding, although, Sam did manage to convince Gabriel to invite (most) of his siblings, Lucifer included. In turn, Sam called Dean up and, after interrupting every single one of his younger brother's apologies, he agreed to attend.

 

They'd married in the local courthouse, and, under Meg's insistence, went out for lunch afterwards. Nothing big, yet, it was meaningful nonetheless, just to have family around after so long, surprisingly without hard feelings.

 

Things went smoothly enough in their lives after that.  Sam held his neuroses in check for the most part until an innocent comment from Gabriel set him off one day.

 

Sam stood at their sink, elbows deep in soapy water mumbling to himself as he counted out the correct number of strokes.  “Gotta get them clean,” he said, “Gabriel said the dishes were dirty.  Can’t let them stay dirty.”  The pile next to him had just been started.

 

"Sam?" Gabriel had just gotten home from his shift and was surprised that Sam wasn't hanging around in the front room, like he usually was at this hour. After hanging up the jacket of his uniform, he wandered into the kitchen.

 

Sam looked up, startled.  “I- I-,” he stammered, “Y- you’re home.  I- I’m,” the wet plate in his hand crashed to the floor, and he immediately dropped to his knees, “Oh god, I- I- I’m so s- sorry.  You said you needed them cleaned and it, she did the same things and I-” He reached for the broken shard, intent on cleaning them up.

 

Gabriel knelt down beside Sam and caught his wrist, brows furrowed in slight confusion and concern, "Sam, what are you talking about?"

 

“You said the dishes need to be cleaned,” Sam tried to explain as tears leaked from his eyes, and he began to hyperventilate, “You said they needed to be cleaned, and Ruby would say the same thing, and I would do it exactly the same way every time because that’s how they needed to be done.”

 

"S-Sam, I didn't say that so you would feel obligated to do them, I..." Gabriel sighed softly, reaching up to wipe away a tear with his thumb; then, he cupped Sam's face, "I muttered it to myself, Sam, so I would remember to do them. I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." He shook his head, gathering the taller man to his person, "I-I'm so sorry..."

 

Sam shook his head, “It’s not you.” he said, jaw clenched.  “It’s not you, Gabriel. T-The drugs, they did this to me. _She_ did this to me.” He leaned into Gabriel’s hand. “I just can’t stop it,” he shivered, “I want to and I can’t.”

 

Gabriel nodded, pressing closer to Sam, his arms strong, "I know, Sam, I know, but there are little things I can do to help...I want to help you, that's what I'm here for after all. You will get through this, I promise, _we_ will get through this."

 

“How can you be so _sure_?” Sam sat back on his legs and pulled Gabriel into a hug. “How can you be sure,” he repeated, pressing his face into Gabriel’s neck.

 

Gabriel rubbed Sam back, his lips pressed to the shell of the brunet's ear, "Well, I mean...there's no way to ever be sure of these things, but, we're here, aren't we? We've beat the odds before, and I believe we can do it again."

 

Sam’s laugh felt shattered and broken to his ears, “You say that now.  You say that when it’s just the dishes.  What’s going to happen if this gets worse?”

 

"We'll deal with it as it comes at us, okay? I promise, no matter what, I'll always be right here," Gabriel pressed a kiss to Sam's cheek, "we're going to be just fine."

 

Sam took several deep breaths and forced himself to relax.  “I trust you,” he said softly, “I trust you to stick with me through this.” Then he laughed with true humor this time, “You came looking for me, of course you’re going to stick by me.” He sat silent for a moment before, “I love you, you know.”

 

Gabriel grinned, the smile evident in his voice, "You're stuck with me, Sammy. I love you too, a whole hell of a lot!"

  
Gabriel stayed true to his words.  Though they fought, like any couple, they stayed together.  Sam’s episodes decreased as the years went on, until they finally disappeared altogether, and he and Gabriel could finally put their pasts behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU. All of you who have liked and kudosed and reveiwed, we thank you. You made this story what it is. We never could have done it without you.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a collaborative work, so if something seems a bit off or the writing doesn't quite match up, let us know and we'll be happy to smooth it over. You'll notice that the characters might be a little out of what they normally are. This is normal for an AU. Especially one that's going to be as dark as this. Give us time and a chance. More tags will be added as we develop more story.


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